With Love, There is No Need for Words
by Kiyoshi.Takeshi.Raiden
Summary: Written for the anonymous kink meme prompt: "Eames is in love with Arthur, who is a mute. Arthur is reluctant to let Eames get close because of his disability, for fear Eames may tire of him. Frustration, miscommunication, and tears! Pull my heartstrings, anon!" Reviews loved!
1. A Crash Course in Dream Sharing

**Author's Note: **This fic is slightly AU in that it is more of a spin-off rather than a continuation or side story, as Arthur being a natural-born mute does not work with Chris Nolan's Inception. The only thing I really kept from the original story is the team of characters and dream sharing, so other than that, it's pretty AU. Hope nobody minds and everyone enjoys!

I originally wrote this as my second work of fiction for the IKM, and it's more of a story than the last one. I decided to post it here as well just because that's part of the reason why I created this screenname-it is meant to hold my more serious works in comparison of my old name. Unfortunately, unlike the other fic I posted just moments ago for this same pairing and fandom, this is still very much just a work in progress, and I am also currently experiencing writer's block in addition to being held up due to a lot of things happening irl that are taking priority over this fiction right now.

By the way, as you read this, if at any point you think the rating should be higher than K+, as sometimes I blur between what should be a K+ and what should be a T rating, please do let me know-I would appreciate it very much!

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Inception or the characters, but if I did, I'd hire my own fanfiction team to fill all of the prompts I wish were filled!

**Prompt:** "Eames is in love with Arthur, who is a mute. Arthur is reluctant to let Eames get close because of his disability, for fear Eames may tire of him. Frustration, miscommunication, and tears! Pull my heartstrings, anon!"

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><p><strong>I<strong>

_The first time they met, it was in dreamspace._

"It's still a very new concept that the government has been toying with, not yet ready to be released to the general public. In all honesty, I'm not sure it ever will."

The young man speaking appeared to be in either his late twenties or early thirties. He was clean-cut and dressed in neatly in a suit and tie; a brunette with warm brown eyes and of average height. The man whom he was speaking to was not dressed nearly with as much precision. His appearance as laid-back as his personality, dressed in tweed. He was also a brunette and of average height, but with blue eyes that would sometimes turn to a stormy grey, depending on his mood.

"It is to my understanding that Dominic Cobb has at least given you a little basic background on what exactly this project is, and why you were called here today, but just in case," the slightly younger man paused for a moment to take a look at his watch before continuing. "We have a several minutes left on the clock, seeing as how we ended earlier than expected, if you would like to ask any questions."

Dominic Cobb was the son-in-law of respected general, Stephen Miles, who first came up with the dream sharing technology, known popularly among government officials and the military as "extraction," towards the end of his military career. While Miles was no longer actively working on the project and enjoying his retirement, Cobb wished to continue his legacy and exhaust all possibilities of dream sharing as a tool, with continued remote guidance from his father-in-law. Cobb was the reason why the two men were meeting that day.

"Well, first things first, I'm afraid I never quite caught your name, darling," the other man spoke softly with a British accent.

The younger man blinked and then gave the forger a small smile. "Ah yes, of course. Pardon me, I was so concerned with the assignment of giving you a tour of the technology that I forgot to introduce myself, how rude of me. My name is Arthur. I am what they call a point man in this business. And you are—"

"Eames," the forger finished for him, returning the smile. "An absolute pleasure, darling, and if I may ask, how exactly are you acquainted with Dominic Cobb?"

"With Dom?" the point man asked, his smile growing slightly wider and becoming less formal and more warm. "Dom and I are actually more than just acquaintances. We have been friends for a long time. I was best man at his wedding."

"I see. So then I suppose you also became involved in this extraction business because of him?" Eames asked.

"Hm, perhaps initially that was the case," said Arthur. "Though after some time, I actually ended up developing my own passion for the art. I mean, look around you."

Eames watched Arthur, his eyes not leaving the man for a second, even when the point man's arms were stretched out wide, putting emphasis on their surroundings. They were currently in Arthur's subconscious, in a dream that was populated with only buildings and not people. It seemed loosely based off of Manhattan, New York.

"This world is nothing but pure creation," said Arthur. "How could you not be totally captivated by it?"

"It is rather fascinating," the forger agreed. "As interested as I am, however, I am not quite sure I fully understand what Cobb expects me to do here. He mentioned needing a forger in this line of work, but I specialize in the forging of material goods such as poker chips or fake money, quite useful if you're a lover of the casino like myself, but useless here, I think."

"Ah yes, of course, I understand your confusion," said Arthur. "Honestly I am not entirely sure I have grasped the idea for myself, but I do have an inkling as to what Dom is trying to achieve with you on our team."

"And that would be?"

"Well, you said you are a forger of physical things," said Arthur. "Which is on the right track of what we are trying to achieve here, in dreamspace. In fact, it should be even easier to do, with even a wider range of possibilities."

"Come again, darling?"

The point man chuckled softly. "In other words, since many rules of logic can be bent in dreamspace, with a bit of imagination, forging should be a lot easier to do here. Cobb just thought that finding someone with the natural ability would be better to work with than just another average person. Does that make sense?"

"To a degree," said Eames. "But what I still don't understand is why not just another ordinary citizen? If anything is possible here in dreamspace, then shouldn't even a child's imagination be enough for in-dream forgery?"

"Right, but they wouldn't have nearly as much realism or control. You see, Cobb isn't concerned with the bigger picture of whether or not it can be done, because we already know that it can. What he is more interested in is all the minor details of the object being forged, not just the object itself. This, as you have mentioned once or twice, should be something of a specialty for you, Mr. Eames."

The forger nodded. "I see what you're saying now. This is all quite interesting."

"Isn't it?" said Arthur. "But there's more."

"What do you mean?" Eames asked, brow raised.

"Since in the dream world, rules can be bent, we also started wondering if other types of forgery were possible."

"Other types? What do you mean by that?" asked Eames.

"You might actually find yourself enjoying this," said Arthur. "Dom and I were speculating the possibility of a forger being able to even forge a different identity. Sort of like a clone or in-dream plastic surgery, if you will."

"Impossible," Eames said, shaking his head.

"Nonsense!" said Arthur. "Haven't you ever heard the saying that nothing is ever impossible in dreams?"

"Well, yes, but I still don't see how I could possibly help you both on that account," said Eames. "Perhaps you should get yourself another forger."

The point man shook his head. "No. Dom thought this over very thoroughly. He wouldn't have called you to come here if he wasn't absolutely sure that you would be the best candidate for the job. Relax, we won't be working on in-dream forgery right away. We'll be allowing you some sessions to get used to the dream sharing environment first."

"Well if Cobb insists, then I suppose," said Eames. "But don't say that I didn't warn you."

"Of course," Arthur said with a slight nod.

Eames slipped his hands into his pant's pockets, pulling a hand out of one and absently twirling a poker chip close to his side that was now in his right hand.

"Then I guess that's all of the questions I have for you," said Eames. "I presume you have a few for me as well? Like how I also came to know Dominic Cobb, perhaps?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Eames, I am already quite aware of who you are, of all your credentials, and how you are associated with our mutual employer," said Arthur with a slight smile. "I'm a point man, that is what I do."

He looked down briefly at his watch and looked back up at Eames. "It also appears that we are just about out of time for the day; we should be waking in roughly less than a minute now. Your ride should be waiting for you at the entrance of the villa. Until our next session, Mr. Eames."

The forger's eyes furrowed slightly.

"Until next session?" he asked. "You're acting as if we won't be waking up right next to each other; we're hooked up to the same machine. Surely the conversation doesn't have to end here."

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid it does," the point man replied, before seemingly vanishing into thin air.

Eames looked around a moment, slightly confused before he too was thrust out of the dream world, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room he was waking up in. As his vision cleared he began to remember where he really was. He had been picked up by a driver earlier that day at the set location Cobb had sent him earlier via text and had been taken to a secluded villa in the London countryside. During the car ride he had conversed with an older man of Japanese descent named Saito, whose car he was apparently in and who was also to be his escort to and from the location. When they arrived at the villa, Eames was led inside to one of the rooms where he was briefly introduced to the young man named Arthur as the forger that Cobb had recommended, and they immediately began the dream sharing process without providing Eames with any further background information, like who Arthur was and if they were going to do anything aside from taking a stroll inside the point man's subconscious.

It was in this same room that Eames was waking up in now, and as he was gathering his bearings he let his now focused eyes quickly scan the room and catch sight of the point man, as neatly dressed in reality as he had been in the dream, who was about to leave the room, with the dream sharing device known as the PASIV in tow.

Eames softly cleared his throat. "Hm...leaving so soon, darling?"

Arthur paused for a moment, one hand resting on the door frame, the other holding the PASIV. He turned his head slightly in the forger's direction and gave him a small smile before leaving and quietly shutting the door behind him.

The forger's lips twitched slightly, expression conflicting between confusion and disappointment as he sank back in his seat. He took a look at the length of his right arm, holding it at the wrist with his left, and noticed that the point man had already taken the IV out. He also noticed that Arthur had left the forger's jacket on his lap, folded over neatly. Eames looked once more at the door where the point man had exited just moments before, and then looked back at his hand, clenching it slowly into a fist and then releasing it back open. Eames let out a soft chuckle.

"Well bugger me," he said with a soft sigh.

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><p><strong>AN: **Much like the other fic I posted for this fandom, I hadn't really made official chapter titles for each chapter in the original work, but I just added them in here so that the drop down menu would look less "plain."


	2. A Lesson in Methods

**II**

It wasn't until two weeks later that Eames was escorted to the same place, on some random afternoon. Cobb had finally called him after successfully dodging his calls for days, letting him know that Saito's car would be at a certain place at some designated time. The forger made sure to be prompt. There was a childlike giddiness inside him, though it wasn't entirely because he knew he would be getting another taste of the dream world; he knew he would also be seeing the point man again, for Eames had found the man's stoical nature rather fascinating.

As promised, the vehicle arrived at the expected hour, and Eames slipped inside. Once again, he was seated, facing the refined looking Japanese man in the car. Saito hit the glass behind him once Eames had settled, and they began their ride.

Eames was the first to break the silence. "So, if I may ask, what role do you play in this project exactly?"

Saito gave the forger a small smirk. "The funding of course, isn't that obvious? Every project needs its funding."

"Yes, quite right, that," Eames nodded in agreement. He then briefly rubbed at the bottom of his nose with his index finger, looking to the side one moment and then back at the Japanese man. "But I suppose what I'm more curious about is what's in it for you? You seem to have no problem funding a project you play no other active role in."

The older man chuckled and opened a built in cooler to pull out a wine bottle and opened another compartment, pulling out two glasses. He handed one to Eames.

"Would you like a glass?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Eames said, accepting the glass.

Saito poured them each a little and then took a sip out of his glass before speaking.

"You are a quite inquisitive young man, I like you," he said. "I like a man who appreciates details, just so long as they do not dig in matters too far outside their concern."

Saito's eyes seemed to flicker something of a mild warning and Eames took a sip out of his glass, eyes never leaving Saito's.

"But rest assured," Saito continued. "I do not invest in meaningless projects. I may not play an active role, but there are benefits to being the only man in the world to own this technology."

The forger took another sip of wine to suppress a scoff. It seemed much more likely that Cobb was only milking the money from this businessman for work on the PASIV and that he was the one completely in control, as he could easily walk away with his tech and receive additional funding elsewhere. After all, even Saito recognized the benefits of having ownership with the technology; any other person could easily come to the same conclusion.

They were now entering the start of the countryside. Eames looked out the window as the car left the main road and began to take the first of its series of back roads. The forger's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed every detail, as if he would be able to memorize how to get back here on his own one day. A question from his escort broke into his thoughts, breaking his concentration, either by coincidence or with intent.

"I trust you found everything to be satisfactory?"

"Hm?" Eames broke his eyes away from the window. "Oh. Yes. Yes, of course."

"Good," Saito said with a nod. "And you work well with the team?"

The forger raised his eyebrow slightly, as if wondering how well-informed this man was about the project. He opened his mouth to tell the truth that he was only really working in the dream world with one other man, but he decided against it.

"Yes," he said. "Quite well, in fact."

"Good, very good," said Saito, leaning back in his seat. "That is what I like to hear."

Eames turned and looked back out the window. He had lost his place, but he would probably try again the next time. The rest of the ride remained rather silent until they reached the villa, whereupon arrival the forger was quickly escorted inside. Eames was ushered to the same room he had been in before and was quickly put under before he could fully register what was going on.

The forger was immediately greeted with a flash of bright white. He blinked several times and squinted until the world around him slowly came into focus. It appeared as if he were in the streets of East Sheen, London.

"Hello, Mr. Eames."

Eames looked behind him, in the direction of the voice. His lips curled into a small smile as he recognized who it was.

"Well hello, darling. We meet again."

Today the point man was dressed in a three-piece suit, something that Eames would later recognize as something of a signature clothing choice by the other.

"You may call me Arthur if you'd like," said Arthur. "We'll be working together often, so being on a first name basis is fine."

Eames blinked and then smiled. "Forgive me, darling, speaking this way comes naturally to me, but I shall keep that in mind."

Arthur nodded with a small smile. "I know, I figured. Just putting it out there."

"Of course."

"Now," Arthur said, one hand in his pocket and his other arm outstretched toward some buildings. "We'll be getting around to your forging element a little later, but first I am to train you in navigating dreams."

Eames looked slightly perplexed. "Navigating dreams? You make it sound as if we have some control, darling, but isn't that a logical fallacy? Cobb made it sound like ultimately the dreamer was in control."

The point man smiled. "Yes, that's correct, but to a certain extent. You see, Mr. Eames, while there may be rules in place, we as the intrusive ones are equipped with a few liberties that allow us to bend those rules."

"Such as?"

Arthur tilted his head slightly to one side. "Come, I'll show you."

They walked toward the buildings and Arthur began to explain to Eames the logistics of the dream world, like how they could manipulate certain aspects but not others so that the dreamer does not suspect intruders, how the people inside the dream were not real and were called "projections," and how these projections were like anti-bodies in the dream world that were there to keep people like them out. Arthur also explained other things, like manipulating the terrain—the risks of changing it too much, inserting traps and puzzles, and the problems that come from basing dreaming terrain too close to reality—and how the terrain was created by someone called an architect. While the target subject would shape how the dream and projections run, the architect would lay the initial base with everything the team would need to navigate the dreamscape.

They spent the last minutes of their dream time at a café, where they each had a cup of coffee. Eames toyed with a stirrer in his cup before taking a sip.

"Fascinating," said Eames. "It tastes rather real."

Arthur nodded. "Many things that your senses experience in the dream world will feel quite real to you, and some will even linger after you wake. Unfortunately, unpleasant feelings such as pain will also seem very real, and you'll feel the ghosting of those pains a lot of times even after you return to reality."

"Ah, I see," Eames said, taking another sip of his drink. "That is rather unfortunate. There is no way around it?"

"No, none," Arthur said, shaking his head. "None that we've found, anyway."

The point man looked down at his watch for a moment, then looked back up at Eames.

"Looks as if we're almost out of time for today," he said. "Do you have any questions about what we went over today?"

The forger looked down at his drink and tapped the side of it with his index finger a few times before lifting it up to finish it.

"Yes," he said. "Just one that I can think of for now."

"And that would be?" asked Arthur.

"You mentioned at one point that it isn't safe to replicate whole areas from reality, why is that?"

"Ah, good question," Arthur said with a smile. "It's a precautionary measure for making sure we don't lose touch from reality by keeping what's real separate from what's not."

"I see," Eames nodded. "That's logical."

"There's another method as well, that Dom likes to use," said Arthur.

"Oh?" Eames said, raising an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

Arthur leaned forward slightly. "It's a concept called a totem."

"A totem?"

"Yes. His wife came up with it. It's where you have an object that acts differently in the dream as opposed to reality. So for example, Dom's wife uses a top that of course will topple in reality, but in the dream it supposedly spins endlessly."

"Supposedly?"

"Well of course that's the other thing about totems," Arthur said with a soft chuckle. "You're not supposed to know exact logistics like how much it weighs or like what result the owner of the totem is supposed to see."

"And why is that?" asked Eames.

"Another precautionary measure," said Arthur. "So that no one else can manipulate it, to fool you into thinking you're in reality when you're still dreaming."

"Ah," Eames said, nodding. "So then, do you have a totem as well?"

There was a brief flicker of emotion in the point man's eyes that quickly disappeared; his smile faltered slightly.

"I do and I don't. It's sort of an in-between thing for me," he said.

"Come again, darling?" Eames asked, a look of confusion on his face.

Arthur's expression became somber.

"Mine isn't exactly an object," he said. "It's more of a truth. One that can only change here and not in reality."

"A truth?" Eames asked, still confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand, but you'll have to forgive me, I am rather slow at times."

"It's all right," Arthur said with a small smile.

The forger cocked his head slightly to one side. "Hm...why so sad, love?"

Arthur chuckled softly.

"And we are out of time for today, Mr. Eames," said Arthur. "Next time we'll be going over your forging."

"Wait," Eames said, but it was too late, Arthur had already gone.

Eames woke in the room to find that Arthur had gotten a head start on cleanup and once again was halfway out the door.

The forger pushed himself partway up from his seat and called after the point man. "You really need to stop doing that, pet."

Arthur paused for a moment to look back at Eames with slight confusion in his expression.

"You know," said Eames. "This whole silent and mysterious slipping away first act of yours you've got going on here."

Arthur smiled at him slightly and turned back to the door. Eames sighed.

"Oh, and Arthur."

The point man paused once again, his slightly surprised expression missed by the forger because he was still facing the doorway; Eames hadn't called him by his first name since he had first told him.

"You can drop the formalities next time we meet. Just Eames is fine."

Arthur turned his head slightly back, just enough so that the forger could see the expression on his face which seemed to say "all right, I understand," before leaving the room just as the day when they had first met, quietly, without another word exchanged between them.

Eames got up from the chair and put on his jacket, which Arthur had again left for him on his lap, neatly folded. He walked out of the room and was greeted by Saito's chauffeur, who escorted him back to the entrance of the villa, where the car was waiting for him.

"I trust everything went well today also?" Saito asked as Eames entered the car.

The forger nodded.

"Very good," Saito said, and tapped at the glass behind him to let his chauffeur know it was all right to start driving.

Eames slid his hands into his jacket pockets and looked out the window, slightly distracted. Saito watched him a moment before speaking.

"You have something on your mind," said Saito.

"Hm, sorry? Oh, no," Eames said, chuckling softly and shaking his head. "Nothing deep, anyway. Thinking of taking a trip to the casino after you let me off at my stop is all."

"We could take you there instead, if you would like," said Saito.

"Really?" asked Eames.

"Of course," Saito said, nodding. "Our business is done for the day. We can send you to any destination you choose."

"I wasn't aware of that," said Eames. "So any destination? There is no catch?"

"No catch," Saito said with a smile.

"Oh, well in that case, if I could be let off The Clermont Club in Berkley Square," said Eames. "I would greatly appreciate that."

"Very well," Saito said, lifting up his hand to tap at the glass once again, but stopped mid-action. He leaned slightly forward. "Perhaps I may offer you a business proposition."

The forger raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What would that be?"

"From what I hear, you have a taste for gambling."

"I do," Eames said, nodding. "What of it?"

"Well," Saito said with a smile. "Perhaps today you might be interested in playing a game in one of my company's casinos. We can provide you with a ride home later this evening."

"That sounds all fine and dandy," said Eames. "But again, what's the catch?"

"There is no catch," said Saito. "This is an offer. You play a few games at my casino and go home with what you win, that is all."

"Sounds too good to be true," said Eames. "How do you benefit?"

Saito chuckled.

"I want you to show me your forging skills at the tables," he said. "Show me you can fool my security. They will not be informed of your arrival."

"Ah, I think I understand what you are saying," said Eames. "You shouldn't be so roundabout in your explanations, chap. All right, and if I cannot?"

"Then my security will be informed before they deal with you according to our casino rules," said Saito. "You will just be sent home empty handed."

"Ah...well, forgive me for being a tad curious, but what happens to those you normally apprehend for cheating?" asked Eames.

"That is something you do not have to know," Saito said with a small smirk. "You will not have to worry about it as long as you work for Mr. Cobb. This way, I can assess your skill for myself and also learn if there is anything that needs to be improved in my business. So, do we have ourselves a deal?"

"Well I suppose, why not," Eames said with slight hesitance. "There seems to be no fatal risks to your proposal."

"Excellent," Saito said, leaning back and tapping at the glass.

The window separating them from the driver lowered a crack and Saito conversed briefly to his chauffeur in Japanese. After the window rolled back up, Saito opened one of the compartments and took out a bottle of champagne.

"Drink?" asked Saito. "Getting to the casino will take some time."

"No thank you, I'm quite all right," said Eames.

The forger looked back out the window and took his hands out of his pockets. He placed an elbow on the window beside him and rested his lips against his hand. His other hand had come out of his pocket, producing a poker chip and he twirled it in his fingers absently. After a couple of minutes he looked down at the hand holding the chip and watched himself guide the chip back and forth through his fingers. His lips curled into a small smile as an idea slowly struck him.

_"It's a concept called a totem."_

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><p><strong>AN: **Just two notes for this chapter. I mentioned East Sheen, London in particular because according to Wiki, Tom Hardy was born in Hammersmith and raised in East Sheen. Also, in the part where Arthur just goes over the "logistics of the dream world," I decided not to go into too much detail because I figured most people have watched the film, and therefore I decided to just briefly describe instead of insert a ton of dialogue. I didn't want to bore anyone to death, nor did I want to make this chapter longer than it had to be.


	3. On Forging and the Imagination Debate

**III**

**** "You're falling out of character again, Eames."

The forger growled in frustration as he tried to keep all the details in check about the individual he was supposed to be impersonating. This was their tenth session. While he was getting better at impressions and forging identities, he still needed to work on building his stamina to keep the forgery in place for extended periods of time. This was proving difficult for Eames since it was quite different from forging inanimate objects. He was grateful for Arthur, who turned out to be a lot more patient than he expected.

"How much time do we have left until this blasted job again?" Eames asked.

Arthur chuckled. "About another couple of weeks. Don't worry, Dom figured that we would need a bit of time, so that's why we sought you out months ago. This hasn't exactly been done before."

"Heh, and I can see why," said Eames. "Because this is bloody impossible, is what it is! Why he thinks I am right for this job is beyond me."

"Because you're the best," Arthur said quietly.

The forger raised an eyebrow and observed a slight rosy tint rising in the point man's cheeks.

"Sorry, darling, I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that," said Eames.

Arthur cleared his throat.

"I mean Dom made sure, you know...that we had the best forger in the business," Arthur said at a more acceptable volume. "He scoured every casino, chased every rumor, and finally he one day came across you and came to the conclusion that you were it."

"Mmhm, I remember that day well," said Eames. "Now had I seen the future and known what exactly I was getting myself into, I'm not sure I would have jumped on board so hastily."

"Do you regret it?" Arthur asked, perhaps a little too quickly.

The forger's brows furrowed together slightly for a moment, the corner of his lips curling into a small smile of bemusement.

"I...ah, no. Not all of it," Eames said finally, shaking his head.

Arthur let out a subtle breath of what sounded like mild relief, one that Eames did not fail to miss. Eames chuckled.

"You know, Arthur, you don't always have to be such a stick in the mud," said Eames. "Loosen up a little; it would do you some good."

The point man frowned. "I'm not that uptight, Eames, you're exaggerating."

"Oh really," Eames said with a smirk, eyes glinting mischief. "I beg to differ—oh look! What's that?"

"What?" Arthur was momentarily distracted away from facing Eames, looking instead in the direction where the forger was pointing, only to have blood rush to his cheeks upon realizing that he had so easily fallen for the other man's childish prank. "Really Eames, that was quite juvenile—hey!"

Arthur's expression changed from one of surprise to one of fury. "I do _not_ look like that!"

"Oh come now, Arthur," Eames said with a perfect impersonation of the point man's voice. "I didn't even change your face! Just your hairstyle and state of dress."

"Well I don't dress that way," Arthur said, clearly miffed at seeing himself with disheveled hair and in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. "Or perhaps that's the best you can do, seeing as how you're having so much trouble with impersonating the person for our client."

"That isn't fair," Eames said, shifting into a more accurate interpretation of Arthur. "Actually, it seems it is easier to stay in character once I've studied the subject for a considerable amount of time."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "You've been studying me?"

"Not intentionally, of course," said Eames. "Don't fret, darling. It's only natural really, since I've been exposed to you the most all this time. After all, we work together often."

"Hm, I suppose...though now that I'm taking a closer look, it really does seem that you have every detail in place. Even the voice sounds like mine," said Arthur. "As I've said before, Dom wouldn't have chosen you if he didn't think you were the best in the business, and it looks as if you've proven yourself. Eames, I'm impressed."

"I'll take that as a compliment, even if the tone sounded a little backhanded," Eames said with a smile. "Receiving a praise from you is like pulling teeth, love."

"Forgive me for not seeing the point in meaningless praise," said Arthur. "This gives me an idea though; perhaps it would help if we could find a way to get you in a position to shadow the target, or even if we could find some kind of footage for you to observe."

"You're absolutely hopeless, darling," Eames said, shaking his head.

Arthur looked confused. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"Of course not," Eames said with a small sigh. "You're brilliant, Arthur, but absolutely oblivious when it comes to certain things. You completely lack imagination."

"I have plenty of imagination," Arthur protested.

"Oh really," said Eames. "I quite disagree, seeing as how you and Cobb decided to seek out a forger to help with the manipulative work."

"That may be, but you also need imagination to draw out the framework for each extraction," said Arthur.

They were bantering childishly, hurling immature insults at each other, but it was clear that they enjoyed it. Over the course of their work together, they had progressively become more comfortable with one another, even if their personalities weren't entirely compatible. It usually happened towards the end of their sessions, and secretly, neither minded that it was becoming something of a routine.

"Maybe so, but perhaps it has more to do with your intelligence," said Eames. "Which you have no problem reminding me daily that I lack of it. No matter though really, since it's the truth."

"What?" Arthur said with a slight frown; occasionally the debate would take a turn where he wasn't entirely sure how to react.

Eames slipped out of character and became himself again. He approached the point man and gently gripped Arthur's shoulders, shaking him once.

"I said it once and I'll say it again," said Eames. "You're bloody brilliant, Arthur, no one in this world compares."

"You're of a different caliber yourself, Eames," Arthur replied, a small flush forming across his face once again; Eames had a knack for bringing it out of him.

Eames chuckled, but his expression was serious. "I mean it, Arthur. You may lack imagination and may be a devout saint and stickler when it comes to protocols, but at the end of the day that's what makes you a solid point man. I don't think you'd be nearly as good otherwise."

Arthur chuckled and slowly pried the forger off of his body.

"I'm flattered to know that you hold me with such high regard," said Arthur. "However, that doesn't change the fact that we are now out of time. I'll go see if I can at least find some footage of our target for you so that you can better prepare yourself."

Eames sighed.

"All right. I suppose you won't be sticking around as per usual, correct?" he asked.

Arthur nodded. "I should be on my way out as soon as you start waking."

"Tell me, darling, why do you do that?" asked Eames. "I've been curious about it for quite some time now. At first I thought it was because we were not well acquainted at the time, but that was in the beginning. Surely you don't still have any reservations about me, I hope?"

"No, on the contrary," Arthur said with a soft expression in his eyes. "I just don't have the time to chat. The work of a point man is never quite finished, I'm afraid, especially when there is an ongoing job running."

"Hm, I suppose," said Eames. "Just don't wear yourself out, darling."

Arthur smiled as if to say _I'll try not to_, and then disappeared a few seconds later. Eames woke just in time to see a glimpse of Arthur's backside as the point man slipped out of the room. Eames slid his hand into his pocket and took out a poker chip, flipping it in the air and catching it like a coin. He smiled lazily at the ceiling and let out a light chuckle as he spoke to no one in particular.

"Well he was off in quite a hurry today, wasn't he? Didn't even wait for me to say a word." Eames said softly to himself. "Until next time then, love."


	4. Last Practice

**Author's Note: **And quite unfortunately...this is as far as I've gotten so far with this fiction. There are plenty of more chapters I've got planned and written out...but they just really need to be edited and some of them are only half-complete! Hopefully I'll be able to get back around to this soon...

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><p><strong>IV<strong>

"_Eames."_

The forger blinked, a snap of fingers by his ear bringing his focus back to the current situation at hand. He turned his head from the window of Saito's car and smiled lazily at the point man who was sitting across from him; they were in dreamspace.

"Sorry about that, love."

"You weren't paying attention," Arthur said with slight exasperation. "Come on, Eames, we don't have time to mess around. The mission starts tomorrow—this is our last simulation run. We've got to make the most of it."

"I do so enjoy when you lecture me, darling," Eames said with a wink and a cheeky grin. "It's quite endearing."

"Cut the sarcasm, Eames," said Arthur.

"On the contrary," said Eames. "I was being quite serious."

"You really do enjoy aggravating me, don't you?" asked Arthur.

"Well that's a rhetorical question, if there ever was one," said Eames. "I've got my head back in the game now though, and it won't be leaving again until we're done this last run through, I promise."

Arthur let out a small sigh of defeat that turned into a soft chuckle while shaking his head.

"All right," he said. "Well then, to get you back up to speed, this is how it's going to start. Saito's car will be transporting us to our destination. By the time we arrive, Dom should have already put the mark under so that we can get started right away. Follow so far?"

"Yes, of course," said Eames. "We've only gone over this a thousand times, darling. I know this plan like the back of my hand—we go in, do our job in a timely fashion and then make our getaway before the poor bloke can even wonder what hit him. Easy and clean."

"Don't get too overconfident, Eames," Arthur said with slight warning in his voice. "Cockiness leads to mistakes."

"Oh come now, Arthur, you've worked with me enough by now to know that I would never let my ego get in the way of a mission," said Eames.

"And you've worked with me for long enough to know that I'd rather remind you again and again than take any chances," said Arthur.

"Hm...touche, darling," Eames said with a small smile. "Well then, how much longer until we get there."

"We've been running these last few stages to make it feel as if we're running this mission on real time," Arthur said while looking at his watch. "According to the time I have, we should be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Splendid," said Eames.

"You're ready for this, aren't you?" said Arthur.

"Darling, I was born ready," Eames said, waggling his eyebrows.

Arthur's face expressed conflicting emotions in response to this statement, and the two men soon burst out into shared laughter.

"I'm sorry, darling, I don't know what came over me," said Eames.

"Neither can I," said Arthur. "Though I don't think I can understand half of what goes through your mind."

"It's better to have an element of mystery though, isn't it?"

"Sure."

The laughter died down and a brief silence fell over them. Arthur was the first to break it, clearing his throat. Eames raised his eyebrows slightly at the point man.

"So what were you thinking so deeply about, anyway?" Arthur asked with his head resting slightly on his hand, elbow against the base of the car window.

"What, earlier?" asked Eames. "Oh, nothing really, just memories."

"Memories?"

"Yes," Eames said, chuckling softly. "Funny how we're in a dream already and somehow I drifted off into a bit of a daydream when I'm already in one."

"Almost a fairytale feeling, isn't it?" asked Arthur. "Like _Alice in Wonderland_ or something."

"Yes," Eames agreed. "I suppose something like that."

The forger looked out the window again and found himself slipping back into deep thought again, as he began to recall what he had been thinking about earlier.


	5. Casino Flashback

**Author's Note: **Oh boy, it's been not one, but two years since I've updated this fiction. I dropped this one at first because life got super busy, and then by the time things settled down again, I had sort of lost inspiration. I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this fic or looking forward to future chapters, but I'm going to do my best to wrap this one up now—I do so dislike the thought of being one of _those _authors who never finish a fic.

Thanks very much to all those who have commented on this story. Though understandably its been a while since anyone's felt the need to write a little review, believe me when I say reading all the old posts definitely was a tremendous motivator for finding the strength and inspiration to continue this story. For those who have still been hanging onto hope, thank you so much for your loyalty and patience—it is most appreciated.

I can't remember who requested this scene; it's been so long, but there was a fan who had written me asking if I could write a chapter on Eames at the casino. It wasn't initially supposed to be part of the fic, so this chapter is sort of a filler. I know, probably not what you want to hear after a year of my silence, but I'm already working on the next bit, so hopefully that will be up soon! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one. (Also, somewhat hilariously, the rating has been upped one level not because of any sexual themes but due to a single curse word, hahaha.)

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><p><strong>V<strong>

_Two Japanese men were watching the monitors in front of them. One was drinking coffee and the other was taking occasional notes on another screen. The man drinking his coffee leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at something happening on his screen. _

"_Oi, Tanaka-san," said the man with the coffee. "Haven't we seen this one before?"_

_The man typing the notes stopped mid-action and looked to where the other man was pointing on his screen. He nodded._

"_You're right. We have seen him before, at the other location."_

"_Notify the boss."_

_The man called Tanaka-san picked up a phone from beside his keyboard and dialed an extension. _

"_Saito-san," said Tanaka. "There has been a breach."_

_Outside, Saito was sitting in his limo in front of the casino. He placed a finger on his ear, fitting his ear piece more comfortably and chuckled._

"_If it is the young gentleman in a plaid-patterned suit, then I am well aware," he said. "I commend you on your observational skills."_

"_You do not want security to see him out, sir?"_

"_No, I do not," said Saito. "You and Hashimoto should be the only ones to recognize him; this is why I rotated you two here from the other location. I want you to keep an eye on him."_

Eames calmly slipped his way into a merry group of gamblers huddled around a craps table. This was his fourth visit to one of Saito's casinos, and he was considerably more relaxed than he had been intiially. The first time, Eames had been rather skeptical that the Japanese man would keep his word, but Saito really had kept his security off of the forger's back. It wasn't likely that Eames would have been caught anyway, but there had been a moment of daring and the forger couldn't resist making an obvious card-switching blunder at a poker table towards the end of his stay, just to see what anyone would do. He had done it at a time where only the dealer should have noticed the slip, and the dealer most certainly had. In the most subtlest of gestures, the dealer had swiftly pressed something underneath the table while pretending he was merely reaching for the side of his leg to relieve himself of an itch. He had given Eames the barest of smiles to which Eames returned a lazy one, rather wholeheartedly. All the while, his heart had been admittedly pounding in anticipation, but security never came. Or rather, they never approached the table. Eames knew from the almost unnoticeable flicker of something in the dealer's eyes that some sort of signal had been given. The man's jaw had clenched slightly and he had given Eames a brief glance that told the forger all that he needed to know—he was one lucky bastard. It was childish, but in that moment Eames had felt a little smug, though in hindsight he realized he needn't have made such a risky move at all; the outrageous payday he had left with would have spoken for itself. Under normal circumstances, Eames would never have cashed in so many chips at once.

The ride home for him was a very memorable one as well—Saito had made a small comment about the forger's bold move, with slight amusement laced in his tone. He then proceeded to take out a small black cell phone, dialed a number, and began murmuring to someone in his native tongue. Afterwards he informed Eames that he had successfully assisted in the removal and replacement of a considerable number of inattentive staff, effective immediately, and it was then Eames was sure there was no immediate threat to be had towards himself. So long as he kept in Saito's good graces, there was no need for concern.

Of course, Eames was a man of risks, so when Saito asked if he would like another opportunity in assisting him with weeding out the weak links in his staff, the forger had made his additional request. The silence that fell between them had been most brief, and Saito had consented easily, once again with amusement in his expression.

At this point Eames had done considerable study of each of Saito's casinos, everything from the layout to details of each of the gaming items. Normally he played craps earlier on—Eames liked to wind down at the card tables—but tonight it was going to be his big finish.

In the security room, Tanaka and Hashimoto were doing as they had been told, watching the forger with great scrutiny. They regarded him especially when he took his place as a shooter; however, they saw nothing out of the ordinary. After his final roll, Eames safely exited the casino, and the two men didn't sense anything was wrong until they received a call from their employer. When the phone rang, the two guards exchanged an uneasy glance before one of them answered the phone.

"This is Hashimoto."

There was no direct response at first; Saito's voice came through a little muffled, and the guard realized his employer was still talking to someone. He licked his lips nervously when he realized his boss was probably talking to the man they had been asked to watch on the surveillance cams.

"_...st impressive, Mr. Eames. I expected nothing less from you. Tanaka and Hashimoto are two of my best men."_

"_Why thank you, Saito."_

Sensing something was wrong, Tanaka gave his partner an inquisitive look, to which Hashimoto shook his head and held up a finger. Saito suddenly seemed to notice his call had been answered and excused himself. Hashimoto could feel the sweat forming on his brow as his employer cleared his throat.

"Who is on the line?" Saito asked in Japanese.

"Hashimoto," the guard responded in kind, doing his best to keep his voice even.

"Ah, very good," came Saito's reply. "I have something for you to do."

"Yes, sir."

"Go send someone to relieve the gentleman working the table that young man was just at."

"The one at the craps table, sir?"

"Yes," said Saito. "And if he asks why, tell him to check his dice. Let him know he's dismissed. If he won't go quietly, do what you must."

Hashimoto ran his tongue across his bottom lip. "Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?"

"No, that will be all," Saito said with a light chuckle. "You and Tanaka keep those eyes sharp."

"Of course, sir," Hashimoto said.

"Good. Now get it done," Saito said before hanging up the phone.

Hashimoto let out a lengthy sigh before picking up his walkie. "Oi, I need someone on the floor to speak up."

A voice crackled through seconds later. "Ino...ue...reporting."

"Dice compromised, table 30," Hashimoto paused a second to flip through a binder in his work area to figure out who was posted there. "Orders from above. Sakamoto goes home. Ice him if he doesn't."

The reply comes back after only a brief moment's hesitation. "Understood."

"We in trouble then, eh?" Tanaka asked nervously as Hashimoto took a seat.

"No," Hashimoto said, shaking his head. "For now, only a warning. We've been doing this a long time; it seems we have gotten a little too comfortable. We watch hands more closely next time."

"I see..." Tanaka said with a tight expression. "So we shall."

Meanwhile, back in Saito's limo, the Japanese man regarded the British forger with some interest. Eames was smiling to himself, running his thumb over the pair of dice in his hand.

"A funny trinket to be taking home, don't you think?" Saito asked. "You're a forger; you could easily make a copy yourself."

"Ah, but an imitation is never as good as the real thing," Eames said with a gleam in his eye.

"There is something else too, isn't there?" Saito asked with a slight smile.

Eames chuckled. "Yes, yes there is in fact. Though it might not be something most people would understand."

"I am not most people," Saito said coolly. "As I am sure you are well aware."

The forger responded by giving Saito one of his winning smiles. He clasped his hand around the dice and swiftly slipped them into his breast pocket for safekeeping.

"Indeed, I am," said Eames. "Which is why I am willing to offer an explanation."

Saito pretended to take a good look at his watch before leaning back in his seat, arms folded over his chest and one leg crossed over the other. He gave Eames a small shrug.

"We have time."

Eames gave the man a slight smile in return. He pulled out of one of his pants pockets his favorite poker chip and began twirling it absently through his fingers as he spoke.

"Well, I'm not really sure I can say it's a gambler's tick so much as it is a personal one...to bring home something a little extra, every once in a while. Something with a bit more sentimental value. You know, sometimes for the personal collection, and other times to make use of it for a much greater purpose."

He was being purposefully vague, but Saito seemed to catch on to his implied meaning immediately. He let out a very lighthearted laugh and readjusted his posture; his legs were still crossed but his arms broke away from his chest and instead now his hands were clasped comfortably on his lap.

"I would never have thought you to be the romantic type," Saito said. "Or perhaps you are merely a Casanova skilled in his craft. Yes...I believe that does fit better."

"Hm, well on that you would be correct on both counts," Eames said with a chuckle. "Although in this case the situation appears to be rather different."

The Japanese man raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Some other time, chap," Eames said with a wink. "It's bad luck to tell a story that's still developing. I hope you understand."

Saito nodded, giving the British man a knowing look. "Very well, but it is a tale I hope you will tell sometime in the future."

"You have my word, my good man."

"Wonderful," Saito said with a grin as he opened up a compartment and pulled out a bottle of wine and a pair of drinking glasses. "Care for a drink?"

"Don't mind if I do. Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry! I know there isn't any Arthur in here, but I _swear _I will make it up to everyone next chapter!


	6. The Start of a Greater Misunderstanding

**Author's Note: **This chapter is rather short, but I hope people enjoy it. I have no idea when the next chapter will be, hopefully soon.

As always, reviews are most loved and greatly appreciated!

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><p><strong>VI<br>**

"I told you I was sorry, didn't I, love?"

Eames watched somewhat helplessly as Arthur seemed to be angrily packing up his bags. They had just successfully completed Saito's mission several hours before. The plan should have gone without a hitch, but it hadn't. The hiccup had come just before the kick, courtesy of a certain somewhat unreliable forger. Despite numerous warnings he had been given not to draw too much attention from the mark's projections, Eames had been unable to resist. He had flirted a little too aggressively with a cute blonde, earning him a deserved slap that effectively caused the mark's subconscious to focus on him. This rather unwanted change in plans nearly woke the mark at the same time the extraction team did, causing them to be incredibly rushed in their cleanup.

"_What the fuck happened in there?"_ had been the first words out of Cobb's mouth as soon as they had made it a safe distance from the building.

Arthur had looked pointedly at Eames, but hadn't said a word. He hadn't needed to either, the look had more than spoken for itself. Cobb had then proceeded to lecture Eames all the way back to their hotel. He spoke mostly in whispers so that Saito's driver would have nothing negative to report; Saito was not present at that point in time. Eames had drowned him out for the most part, as he had been more concerned about what Arthur must have been thinking.

Once at the hotel, Eames had trailed Arthur all the way back to his room and apologized several times as Arthur began to pack his things; they were all set to leave for their next destination in just under two hours. All the while Arthur said not a word, and eventually it began to get on the forger's nerves.

"Honestly, why won't you say something? I promise, darling, I won't make such a blunder again," said Eames. "Please, at least look at me, won't you?"

To this Arthur just let out a sigh as he sealed his suitcase shut. Finally he glanced over at Eames. This seemed to douse the forger's temper some.

"Listen, I know I've disappointed you," Eames said more softly. "But I—"

A knock at the door cut him off. Arthur looked through the peephole before opening the door, revealing Cobb to be on the other side.

"Time to go boys," said Cobb. "We've got to make it to the airport in the next thirty minutes or we'll miss our flight."

"Impeccable timing as usual, Cobb," Eames said dryly.

Arthur said nothing and went back to get his suitcase. Eames let out a small sigh of relief upon seeing this.

"Oh good," he said just before Arthur went completely out the door. "Looks like he's giving you the silent treatment too. So it's not just me he's mad at."

Cobb frowned. "What? Silent treatment? Eames, what are you—oh."

The crease in his forehead disappeared as it seemed like he realized something. "Listen, Eames, about that..."

Cobb started to say something but trailed off when he looked over at Arthur. The point man gave him a disapproving look and a firm shake of the head. Cobb cleared his throat.

"Uh, never mind," he said. "Right now we need to focus on getting out of here; we've already wasted enough time as it is. The chances of our mark realizing what we've done and sending a search team after us so soon is slim, but we shouldn't take any chances. So let's move."

Eames raised an eyebrow, wondering what Cobb had been about to say, but decided now was not the right moment to make such an inquiry. Arthur wasted no time in making his way out, which left Eames alone with Cobb for just a few moments longer.

"You have everything, Eames?" Cobb asked.

"Yeah, I didn't come with much," said Eames. "Everything I brought with me is currently on my person."

"Then come on."

The two men soon caught up with Arthur and the three of them climbed into the limo that had been waiting for them at the base of the hotel; another one of Saito's many generous arrangements. Eames asked his question as soon as the car began to move.

"So where are we off to next, gentlemen?"

Eames looked at Arthur somewhat expectantly, hoping that the point man would be the one to answer him. Arthur seemed to be purposefully looking out the window, however, and it was Cobb of course that answered the forger's question.

"For reasons—aside from the obvious advantages—unknown, our current benefactor and employer has taken a great liking to us," Cobb said in a low voice at first before speaking in a more normal tone for the second half of what he had to say. "We've been offered the best security, a steady stream of finances, and we've even been given considerable freedom in choosing our future projects.."

"Sounds dandy," said Eames. "What's the catch?"

Cobb's eyes narrowed slightly. "None other than making sure whatever jobs we take on do not put the big man at risk directly."

"Lovely," Eames said somewhat sarcastically. "So in other words, we've just set ourselves up for a huge debt, one that we may never be able to completely pay off. Fantastic."

This earned him a rather unexpected glare from Arthur. Eames responded by letting out a sigh.

"All right, all right," the forger grumbled. "I'll shut up."

The three men spent the rest of the ride in silence.


	7. A Different Perspective on Past Events

**Author's Note: **Much love to the 5-6 new followers and the few who also have added this story to their favorites list. I am very touched that people still seem to be reading and enjoying this story.

A couple acknowledgements before I start:

To the guest reviewer, **Rin** - I wish you had left a link so that I could have messaged you back the minute I saw your review. It put a huge smile on my face to read that you've been a longtime fan of the story, and I'm glad you happened to see the update. Here's to hoping you see this one as well. Thank you for not giving up on this story. This chapter is dedicated to you.

Also to user **Billie Jane** - As I said in my PM to you, vouz parlez anglais bien. Thank you very much for your kind and encouraging words. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! Bissous~

Now, onto the chapter. Please enjoy, and if you have the time, I'd love to hear from you readers!

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><p><strong>VII<strong>

_When Arthur had first met Eames, he had been taken completely by surprise._

Perhaps he had been expecting someone with a little more finesse, especially since Eames was a forger. Arthur had been prepared for the accent, facts surrounding the forger's past, and even his unusual fashion sense, of which didn't quite resonate with the point man. Basically, anything discoverable through research, Arthur had been ready for. What caught him off-guard, however, was something that he never would have been able to infer from just looking over photos and files—developing the right way to approach and respond to a person would mean taking notes on personality and studying the individual up close, usually through stealth and surveillance tactics, but Arthur simply hadn't had the time prior to their initial interview. Eames wasn't someone Arthur could really regard as someone with class; however, that did not mean that he hadn't found the forger to be _smooth_, upon first impression.

For the first time in his life—at least for as far as he could remember, anyway—Arthur found that he had difficulty concentrating on explaining to the forger some of the basics of dreaming and extraction. He couldn't even figure out why the man made him feel so distracted.

When Arthur got nervous, which was rarely, he tended to speak at a faster pace than usual. As a result, his initial session with Eames went by rather quickly, with several minutes to spare. So Arthur had asked the man if he had any questions. Eames had caught him off-guard by asking for his name. Arthur had thought about it for a second, wondering if he indeed had forgotten to introduce himself at the start of the session. He hadn't been able to recall, so he answered the question. Eames then somehow eased them into somewhat of a casual conversation and Arthur had, without realizing it, let his guard down further. It wasn't until he heard a gentle classical music track flow into the dream, a signal that the dream was ending—also known as the "kick," something Eames had yet to learn at that point—that Arthur was brought back to reality. His good mood had dampened some when Eames had asked him why their conversation wouldn't be continuing once they woke up from the dream.

Though close friends and family members had never made him feel less than adequate, it didn't change the fact that Arthur struggled, on occasion, with his inability to speak. Some days he found himself to be more self-conscious about it than others. That particular day had turned out to be one of those times.

Arthur had intentionally dosed himself with a weaker sedative than what he had administered the forger so that he would be able to wake more easily and earlier from the dream than Eames. This was to ensure he would have enough time to make his exit without risking an awkward exchange. He had been especially thankful for his own foresight that day, because something about his time with Eames had made him desire for something that he took care never to; because it really was an impossible wish, to be able to speak in reality the way he could in dreams.

Arthur had, with great efficiency, unhooked both of them from the PASIV, packed up the equipment, and even had a little time to fold Eames' jacket neatly and place it on the man's lap. He had almost made it completely out the door when he heard the forger stir behind him and clear his throat.

"_Hm...leaving so soon, darling?"_

In all honesty, Arthur hadn't wanted to, but he had also known better. All he could think to do at that time was to give the man a small smile before closing the door behind him and made his way out of the building. Lingering was dangerous, and Arthur wasn't a man who took unnecessary risks.

####

Cobb had raised an eyebrow at him when he had requested he have some time before meeting the forger again.

"_Two weeks?" _Cobb had said incredulously. _"Arthur, you do realize this isn't one of our more lax assignments?"_

Arthur had known, and he signed to Cobb acknowledging that he knew, but he assured Cobb that Eames would be ready when he needed to be. Cobb had sighed then and signed back in supplement to his verbal response, something he did when he wanted to put emphasis on his words. Aside from those times, Arthur didn't mind if Cobb chose to just speak at him instead without the gestures, after all, Arthur wasn't deaf, just unable to speak.

"_This is precious time we can't really afford to lose right now," _Cobb had said. _"Mind telling me what's going on? Are you not comfortable working with him? Did he do something to you while you both were under?"_

_No. _Arthur had signed back. _He didn't do anything._

"_Then what's the problem?"_

_I don't know. I just need a little time to think._

Cobb sighed, and when he had signed again, this time it was without the accompaniment of words. This is something Cobb did when he was frustrated with Arthur, but not upset.

_All right. _Cobb had said. _I don't know what's going on with you, but I hope you can figure things out. _

Then Cobb spoke. _"Two weeks, Arthur. That's the longest I'll give you, and just this once. You know I'd be more flexible if this were any other gig, but this one's just too important. Do I make myself clear?"_

_Crystal. _Arthur had signed back with a nod.

####

True to his word, Arthur was at the top of his game at his next session with Eames. He was indebted to Cobb, who had apparently been sidestepping the forger's phone calls for days. During the time he had been allotted, Arthur did a little more extensive research on the forger's personal life and upbringing, to help him set future stages based loosely on surroundings that the other man would find mildly familiar. He also formed a structured plan, outlining the content and order of everything he would be teaching Eames in their future sessions. Normally, when Arthur guided a new recruit through the ins and outs of the dreaming world, Arthur would teach each lesson spontaneously and tailor each session to adapt to the person's learning curve. Eames, of course, had turned out to be a different case. Without some kind of order, Arthur knew they wouldn't progress much. Eames was at times erratic, which while it made him an effective and versatile forger, it also meant he was good at throwing Arthur off track by asking him seemingly innocent questions that ended up sparking conversations Arthur would get lost in. Therein lay the true trouble of the matter. Eames made him feel comfortable, and that scared Arthur. He wasn't used to finding a natural click with people—and of course there was the other problem, the reality that Eames somehow always managed to unknowingly remind him of each time they met.

"_So then, do you have a totem as well?"_

Arthur's heart had clenched at the question, and he hadn't been sure as to why. He also found it odd that part of him didn't want Eames to have knowledge of what he lacked.

"_I do and I don't_," he had said with honesty. _"It's sort of an in-between thing for me."_

It was pity, Arthur later realized, that he was afraid of. He didn't want Eames to treat him any differently than how he did while they were dreaming, something Arthur was sure would happen if Eames found out the truth. So he continued to make sure Eames was put under well before he entered the room, and despite the forger's mild protests, he continued to make his exits quickly. Arthur would be lying though, if he said it didn't get more difficult each time. The longer he was exposed to Eames, the more he found himself wanting the dreams to last longer, and the conversations to never end.

####

Cobb didn't ask any questions until it was just him and Arthur alone, in a different hotel room than the one they had been staying in while they were working on Saito's extraction job. Eames was currently on a plane and headed towards a different assignment, but he would be meeting up with them again in several weeks for another mission.

"So," Cobb said, as casually as possible while pouring some alcohol into a glass. "Mind telling me what all that was about, before?"

He looked up in time to see Arthur shrug, as if to say he didn't know what Cobb was talking about. He then sat down on a chair. Cobb took a sip from his drink and let out a soft chuckle before seating himself across from the point man, setting his glass down on the table that was set in between where they were sitting.

"Come on now, Arthur, you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said. "You don't want Eames to know you can't actually speak in reality. I'm just curious as to the reason why."

Arthur averted his gaze, and Cobb let out a small sigh. "There's nothing wrong with it, you know, Arthur."

_I know_. Arthur signed, finally, though he still didn't look Cobb in the eyes.

Cobb raised an eyebrow. "Then how come you didn't want me to tell him? It would make things easier between you, wouldn't it?"

Arthur frowned then. He lifted his eyes to look at Cobb.

_Maybe, or maybe not. _He signed slowly. _I'm just not sure I want him to know._

"He'll find out eventually."

Arthur stilled. Cobb searched the point man's face for a while, his own face scrunched mildly in contemplation. After a few minutes of quiet staring, he seemed to realize something.

"_Oh_."

Arthur tensed. He inquired slowly, hands moving and lips mouthing the words at the same time.

_What? What is it? What are you thinking?_

Cobb frowned and looked as if he were trying to find the right words to say. "Arthur...are you...? Actually, never mind..."

The extractor shook his head and Arthur looked uncertain.

_Are you sure? _He signed. _What is it, Cobb?_

"Nothing," Cobb said, shaking his head some more and rubbing at his temple. "Perhaps I'm reading too much into things. More importantly, the details on our next job—do you have them?"

Arthur sat there, unmoving for a few minutes. If he was about to say anything else, he ended up deciding against it.

Instead, he motioned. _Okay. Give me one second. Let me get the files._

Then, he got up and did just that.


	8. A Brief Exchange

**Author's Note: **Uh...so reviews do _wonders _in motivating me to write more and write faster, hahaha. This is the first time in a long while where I've managed to write and post more than one chapter in such a short span of time.

To **Billie Jane** - Merci! J'ai étudié le français seulement pendant un semestre. And that was only in middle school, so it's been _years_. So my French is definitely more broken than your English will ever be, hahaha. I will do my best to finish this story!

To **BattleCryBlue** - SO good to hear that. You don't know how much it means when someone writes saying they've been following a story for a while, and when I finally decide to pop back into the game, they're right back with me. (I do feel guilty for having abandoned my old name, where I have 3 unfinished stories that are about 7-8 years old now in their silence...perhaps I will get back to attending to those one day. For now though, my full concentration is here.) Anyway, thank you so much for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The both of you are _amazing _for reading and posting a review so soon after I posted up the last chapter. This chapter is a gift for you both! Hope to see you again soon. I look forward to hearing from other readers as well! Until next chapter, then!

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><p><strong>VIII<strong>

_At some point, Eames stops asking invasive questions._

Over time, Eames had gotten used to how scarce Arthur made himself around him and no longer tried to get the point man to stay longer than intended. Eames had come to the conclusion that Arthur was one of those people who preferred to separate work from personal time, which seemed to explain why Arthur didn't want to continue their conversations once they were awake. So Eames changed his approach. He made the decision to make the most of their time while they were in dreamspace. That meant learning what he needed to faster so that he would have more time to spend with the brunette on a more personal level.

The strategy proved itself to be most effective; and the best part of it was, the point man didn't seem to realize what was happening. If he had, Eames was almost certain that Arthur would have found a way to put a stop to it.

Truth be told—while the forger couldn't put an exact finger on when exactly the start of it all had been—over the course of their meetings Eames had grown rather fond of the other man. And perhaps due in part to how guarded and reserved Arthur was, the fondness Eames had for him was developing into something deeper. When Eames started to become more aware of the slight shift in his feelings, he hadn't been too surprised; he was no stranger to falling in love with another man. However, something told him that he needed to be careful where Arthur was concerned. The point man was so incredibly private that for all Eames knew, Arthur could have a woman waiting for him in every city in every country on the planet and the forger wouldn't have a clue.

So Eames made sure to tread lightly. He didn't make his first actual bold move towards the other man until he was certain he'd be able to catch Arthur at the best moment possible. The opportunity came at the tail end of a training session. Eames was so attuned to Arthur's way of doing things by this point, he knew by instinct how much time they had left on the clock, even if the point man never gave him so much as a hint. The music signaling the kick that flowed every time, minutes after he'd make his prediction only further boosted the forger's confidence in the matter.

This particular day, Eames had something specific in mind. He had been waiting on a chance to do this for a long time.

Once Arthur had finished going over the last of the details for their latest mission, Eames finally spoke up. "So I've been thinking..."

"Uh-oh," Arthur said with a small smile. "Eames? Thinking? That can't be good."

The point man was relaxed and unsuspecting, which was good, but Eames knew all too well how quickly all that could change, if he wasn't tactful in his approach. The forger plastered on as easygoing of an expression as he could manage.

"Not all that bad though, I can assure you," he said.

Arthur laughed and Eames continued. "It's just that, I know you always like to make a quick getaway after we've had one of these sessions, but I was wondering if perhaps you could make an allowance and stay for a few minutes, just this once."

The smile on Arthur's face faltered slightly.

"Relax love," Eames said rather quickly. "We don't really have to chat, if that's the problem."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Then...?"

"I promise," Eames said. "No funny business. I'm just asking you to trust me this once, darling. If it will make you feel any better, I also promise not to make this a habitual request."

He loosened when Arthur seemed to lose his tension. The point man said his next words so softly Eames almost missed them.

"All right...I don't like it, not one bit, but I suppose I could, just this once."

Eames brightened instantly. "Splendid! You won't regret this, I assure you, darling."

He swallowed the urge to laugh when Arthur gave him a look back that seemed to say, "well,_ that _remains to be seen." True to his word though, Arthur was still there when Eames woke up, though he looked a little unsure of himself. Eames noticed the other man took a small step back when the forger got up and approached him.

"Easy there, pet," Eames said with a laugh. "I won't bite."

Arthur half-smiled, but the skepticism was evident in his eyes. He tensed when Eames trailed his fingers lightly down one of his arms, stopping at the hand before gently guiding him to turn it over so that the palm was facing upward. Arthur's jaw clenched once and he looked up at the forger, confusion evident in his expression.

Eames smiled, and without a word he reached for something in his left pocket with his free hand, and placed whatever it was into Arthur's open palm. It was a pair of red dice, the same set that he had lifted from one of Saito's casinos some time ago. The lines of confusion deepened on the point man's face. He looked up at Eames curiously. The forger smiled.

"A gift, for you," he said. "I've been meaning to give this to you for quite some time now."

At this, Arthur's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Eames laughed.

"Speechless, darling?"

Arthur gave him an ironic smile then. Eames, of course, misinterpreted the meaning.

"You told me once that you didn't have a totem, or was it that you didn't _need _one? Honestly, I can't remember your exact words," Eames said. "I figured though, that it would be better to be safe than sorry."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Eames chuckled and pulled out of the same pocket he had reached into earlier his totem, a poker chip.

"Thought it would make a nice set."

The eyebrow lowered. It was as if Arthur were saying, "_oh_, of _course_."

"Look, I know we aren't supposed to know all the itty bitty details about each other's totems, so fill it, sand the edges, or do whatever it is to them that you'd like," Eames said. "Promise me that you _will _use these though, won't you, darling?"

Arthur didn't say a word and looked down at the dice in his hand, which was still cradled in the forger's. His brows furrowed together, then relaxed. When he looked back up at Eames the forger's breath caught in his throat when he saw the expression on the point man's face. Arthur's smile was the gentlest Eames had ever seen the man make; it was the kind of smile that was genuine and reached the eyes. And perhaps he was imagining it, but Eames could swear that the man was glowing with appreciation. The moment passed quickly, however. Arthur curled his fingers around the pair of dice, slipped his hand from the forger's hold, and slipped the small token in his breast pocket for safe-keeping. Then, before the forger's mind had a chance to catch up with him, Arthur gathered his things and was out the door.

Eames chuckled to himself, still standing in the same place and now alone in the room. He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand he had used to hold Arthur's.

"Well, that wasn't exactly fair now, was it, love?" Eames whispered. "Then again, I suppose I did swear that you wouldn't have to say anything at all..."

Eames slid his hands into his pockets and bowed his head slightly. He closed his eyes and the first thing he saw when he did was the image of the pleased expression Arthur had made just before he left. With that memory, any feelings of disappointment Eames carried left him. He opened his eyes and chuckled again, staring at the door Arthur had used to leave.

"_I'll take it, though."_


	9. Through the Eyes of Others

**Author's Note: **So I totally forgot to mention at some point, anything that's italicized without quotes is Arthur using sign language, though I wouldn't be surprised if people picked up on that without much trouble; I tried to be consistent.

Anyway, welcome aboard and many thanks to the new users who have either followed/favorited this story, or both! Definitely an encouragement! Also, as always, some shout outs before the chapter begins.

To **Billie Jane **- Haha! I know that feeling; there's an author I like who's written (and currently still in the process of writing) an _amazing _Spock/Kirk story in the Star Trek reboot fandom. Every time that author updates, I jump for joy. Thank you once more for the compliments, and I'm glad you enjoy my writing!

To **Rin** - So glad to see that you've seen the update! In a way this fandom is old now, so I wasn't sure how often you'd be checking back to see updates for this story, hahaha. Here's yet another installment, and more is on the way, I assure you.

To **Booth Seeley Booth **- I was both thrilled and honored to see a review from someone who has been following this story since close to the date when I first posted this story to this fanfiction hosting site, which was almost 2-3 years ago now. Thank you for taking the time to leave some love. This chapter is dedicated to you.

Reviews are the fuel to my writing fire and keep me going! At this rate, I might actually reach the end by...well, I don't want to jinx it. Onward to the chapter, then!

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><p><strong>IX<strong>

Cobb was a man of theories. He was also a man of observation, and lately he'd been noticing something interesting. He hadn't been sure of his suspicions though, until one day when his wife said something.

####

Mal had brought up the subject with him over dinner one evening, during one of those moments where they had a little bit of downtime between missions. Being the effectively persuasive woman that she was, Mal had somehow managed to lure both point man and forger to the Cobb family home. Even more fascinating still, she had also gotten the two men to agree to staying for the entirety of their brief "vacation." In a word, Cobb's wife was _amazing_, not that the man ever needed to be reminded of that fact.

The question had been asked on the first night of their stay; Arthur had decided that evening to take a dinner tray to the living room where he ate and worked at the same time. Eames sat beside him on the couch, preoccupied with what was happening on the television. Cobb's children, Phillipa and James, had already been put to bed, which left Cobb and his wife alone for the first time that week in the dining room. The two spoke softly so that no one could overhear.

"Arthur seems more relaxed these days, no?"

Cobb looked up from his mashed potatoes and raised an eyebrow at Mal. His wife laughed airily.

"You don't think so?"

"No, I mean, well...I don't know," Cobb replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, Dom, please," Mal said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I know you are sharper than that. Don't you see how Arthur looks at that man?"

Cobb half-smiled and shrugged. "Eames? It's impossible _not _to look at him, the way he dresses."

"Oh stop it," Mal said as she laughed and smacked her husband lightly on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

Cobb grinned playfully in a way he only did around his wife. "Right, well..."

He looked briefly over in the direction of the living room and looked back at his wife, the smile fading only slightly. "Suppose I did notice something. What about it?"

"Well, is it more than just looking?"

Cobb had a feeling that he knew what she was getting at. And somehow, the question didn't surprise him as much as he thought it should.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "At least, I don't think so. Eames doesn't even know."

Mal laughed.

"Oh you silly goose," she said, tapping her husband on the nose affectionately with her index finger. "If Arthur hasn't told the man how he feels, then of course he wouldn't know."

"Ah, I mean, that too, I suppose," Cobb said, shifting a little uneasily in his seat. "But you know, he also hasn't told Eames about...well, the _other _thing."

"What?" Mal asked, blinking, as if she didn't believe what she'd just heard. "What other thing?"

"You know...that Arthur can't speak," said Cobb. "At least, not in the real world, anyway. Eames doesn't have a clue."

"What? How can he not?" she whispered harshly. "Surely he can put two and two together, when Arthur doesn't talk to him while they're awake?"

"Apparently not," Cobb said with a shrug. "I mean, it's _Eames._"

He said the last part as if that explained everything, which it did and didn't at the same time. Mal frowned.

"Now, now," she said. "That will just not do!"

And Cobb may have groaned, if he didn't love and admire his wife so much. He knew she was cooking up a plan even before he saw the familiar spark reflected in her eyes. He didn't try to stop her when she got up from her seat and made her way to the living room. Cobb resumed eating from his plate and tried not to laugh when he heard his wife's voice trickle in from the other room.

"Oh _boys_," she said, and he could almost picture how she probably looked in that moment—hands on her hips and a coy smile on her face. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

If there's one thing Cobb has learned from his marriage, it's that his wife is a formidable opponent that cannot be beat. One look into her eyes is all it takes to know that all is lost. Mallorie Cobb getting anything other than her way was just unheard of.

####

"I didn't like Eames at first, but after watching the way he treats Arthur, I think I've changed my mind."

Cobb looked up from his desk at the young woman leaning against the front of it, her mouth full of donut. Her name was Ariadne, and his father-in-law had assigned her to him as a sort of understudy in dream architecture. Ariadne smiled at him and took another bite of the ring of dough and fried fat before continuing.

"It's really sweet, you know? The way he just seems to know and take care of what Arthur needs," she said. "He doesn't seem like the type that would be sensitive to people who need different accommodations. Not at first glance, anyway."

Cobb merely grunted in response. The girl was new, and he hadn't really seen the need to correct her at the time.

####

Yusuf was the name of the man who Eames introduced to the extraction team when Cobb mentioned they were in need of a good chemist. Cobb had taken a liking to him immediately, and from that point forward he became the one who mixed for them the sedatives the team required to perform their operations.

Prior to his becoming acquainted with Cobb and his team, Eames had stopped by his little secluded shop in the city of Mombasa a couple days before the initial meet. Eames had run into the chemist in his old line of work and saved his life once—they've been friends ever since—and so the forger had thought it only appropriate to give the chemist a bit of a heads-up. Without realizing it, Eames had dwelt extra on the subject of the extraction team's point man. Yusuf had taken note, and when he saw the way the forger looked at Arthur when the brunette walked into the room, he had known right away that he was the man that Eames had talked his ear off about. He pulled Eames aside for a quick chat after the end of one of their dreaming trial runs.

"That Arthur," Yusuf said. "He the one, eh?"

Eames looked at his friend and frowned. "What are you on about?"

"Relax, I'm on your side," the chemist said, holding up his hands. "He looks at you too, when you're not, by the way. Thought you might like to know."

Yusuf turned his back and acted as if he were busy mixing together new compounds. He didn't have to look behind him to know that the expression on the forger's face was flickering between confusion and irritation; he knew his friend too well.

"Bug off," Eames finally said, softly.

His insult was only half-hearted. Yusuf chuckled and turned around with a beaker in one hand and a stirrer in the other, swirling about the contents inside the glass.

"Shall I make you a love potion?" he asked.

Eames flipped him the bird in response.

####

Occasionally, Saito liked sitting in on the extraction team's meetings. Only Ariadne seemed to find it incredibly amusing, how the Japanese businessman would seat himself in the corner of whatever room they happened to be in, one leg usually crossed over the other and hand resting on a long black cane with a silver dragon head. Saito merely liked to observe—rarely did he provide his input. Perhaps due in part to his yakuza roots; Saito just liked to "check in" on things every once in a while.

At one of these sit-ins, the sight of Arthur's red dice caught the Japanese man's attention. He approached the point man during a break in the session. Arthur looked up at him, eyebrow raised, when Saito stopped in front of his desk. Saito pointed to the pair of dice and then turned his hand, palm facing upward.

"May I take a look?" he said.

Eames saved Arthur from responding. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible, Saito, my friend."

Saito looked at Eames and tilted his head slightly to one side, mild amusement written on his face. "Is that so?"

"Yes, allow me to explain," Eames said with a small nod. "You see, that pair of dice happens to be Arthur's totem."

"Totem," Saito echoed. "Interesting. And what is their significance?"

"They are a rather important tool for dreamers," said Eames. "They help us to distinguish the difference between what's real and the dreaming world."

"How is that possible?"

"Dreamers are always at risk for losing touch with reality," said Eames. "Any object can be manipulated in the dream world. Totems are meant to be the exception to that rule. Which is also why it is important no one else knows what your totem can or can't do, so that a dreamer can't trick someone else into thinking they're in reality when in actuality, they're still dreaming."

"Ah, I see," said Saito. "And every totem is different?"

"Yes, that's correct," Eames said with a nod. "For example, say your staff there is your totem. Let's say that it weighs a certain amount. So long as you are the only one privy to that information, it can work to your advantage."

"Most fascinating, Mr. Eames," Saito said.

His lips curled into a faint smile as he walked past the forger. He leaned his head to the side slightly and spoke in a low voice so only the forger could hear.

"Not a princess, but a prince, I see," he said.

Eames chuckled and replied quietly. "I never said he was a _she_."

"Still in development?"

"Quite."

"I look forward to the tale."

"Of course. I gave you my word, you know."

"Indeed."

With that, Saito took his leave. Eames looked at Arthur, who had a rather confused look on his face. He laughed softly.

"Nothing to worry about, love," Eames said. "Carry on, darling."

He ran a finger lightly down the side of Arthur's face as he said this. The action was so fleeting, Arthur almost thought he imagined it; Eames certainly showed no sign that he was aware of what he did. The point man looked at the forger's backside in slight wonder, and the light brush was enough to trigger a memory.

####

Arthur knew just as well as Cobb did that when Mal wanted something, she got it. So when she walked into the living room with that mischievous smile on her face, Arthur knew that whatever she asked, he was obligated to say yes.

Which is how he and Eames ended up alone together in the guest bedroom on the second floor of the Cobb family home. Mal had quickly ushered them in and then shut the door behind her after stepping out. There was a few seconds of awkward silence that passed between the two men before Eames kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the guest bed. He patted the space beside him and grinned.

"Well, come on then," he said. "Might as well make the most of it."

Arthur took a small step forward, but he was uncertain. Eames chuckled as the point man's eyes did a quick scan of the room to see if any other accommodations were available for sleeping—there were none.

"Not to worry," Eames said. "Plenty of room here for us both."

When Arthur didn't make a move, Eames got out of the bed and walked up to him. He promptly scooped the point man up off his feet and plopped him on the bed before seemingly bouncing over onto the other side. The forger's swift actions took Arthur completely by surprise, so he didn't have a chance to react. All he found that he could do was look at the forger and blink, dumbfounded. Eames gave him a huge grin.

"No good if one of us sleeps on the floor and catches cold, yeah?" he said softly.

There was such tenderness in the man's eyes that Arthur couldn't help feeling at ease, despite the strange situation. He simply nodded in response. Eames smiled.

"That's the spirit love," he said, giving Arthur's nose a light tap with one of his fingers. "Now why don't we get us some shut-eye?"

Arthur nodded in response, and it took all the concentration he had to keep blood from rushing to his cheeks. After a bit of fumbling, the two men settled themselves under the sheets. Arthur was surprised to find Eames to be rather considerate, leaving just enough space between them so that they weren't touching. Oddly enough, Arthur found himself wishing that they _were_.

Before he could stop himself, Arthur reached a hand out to touch the forger's backside. He almost retracted his hand when he felt the other man tense, but Eames turned to face him before he could. His hand was now resting on Eames' chest, and his mouth fell slightly open. The British man looked, understandably, confused for a moment, but then his lips broke into a gentle smile. The soft look in his eyes returned, and Arthur was glad he was no longer standing, because he would have collapsed from embarrassment at that very moment.

"You cold, love?" Eames asked. "That's all right. Here."

When Eames drew him close to his body, Arthur found that he could not keep himself from blushing. For a minute the forger's face hovered dangerously close, and Arthur could've sworn that the man had been about to kiss him. It confused him, but Arthur found himself sorely disappointed when the forger didn't. Instead, Eames pulled away and Arthur felt more than saw the forger wrap the covers more tightly around them. The action froze Arthur in place, and he was too flustered to look up at the other man. He closed his eyes and shivered when Eames trailed a finger down the side of his face. There were so many thoughts racing through his mind that Arthur almost completely missed what the forger whispered to himself.

"...tiful," said Eames, who then spoke more audibly. "Rest well, darling."

Then Eames let out a soft sigh and at the sound of his light breathing, Arthur knew the man had fallen asleep. It took Arthur a little longer to fall asleep; he was still too distracted by the one word Eames had said to describe _him_.

"_Beautiful..."_


	10. Mismatched Communication

**Author's Note: **I was invigorated by the fact more people followed this story and added it to their favorites, that I had the inspiration to plug out yet another chapter for today. I've hit a bit of a roadblock though on the next one. Hopefully I can get over the hump soon! I'd hate to go silent for another long period again.

To **BreakOnThrough** - Your review made me smile. As I said in the PM I sent you, I do think there will be at least one more chapter with more of Arthur's take on things, but we'll see how it goes.

* * *

><p><strong>X<strong>

The fact that the forger had the point man's interest at all was somewhat illogical. Arthur wasn't one who normally thought about relationships, and he most certainly didn't have a _type_. At least, he hadn't thought so. Then Eames had walked into his life and apparently that had been enough to change everything.

Cobb had caught him one day, sitting at his desk and rolling his newly self-customized dice. He was clearly distracted, which was another irregularity as far as Arthur was concerned. Cobb had been so silent in his observations that he startled Arthur when he spoke.

"So what do you have there?"

The point man jolted into an upright position in his seat and hastily put the dice away. The smile he gave Cobb when he looked up at the other man was a sheepish one. He shook his head as if to say, "it's nothing."

_Nothing important, anyway, _Arthur had almost said, but he stopped himself when he realized that would have been a lie. His eyes widened slightly then as he wondered what that could mean. Cobb cleared his throat awkwardly, misinterpreting Arthur's expression.

"Never mind, sorry. It's none of my business," Cobb said. "Listen, I need to tell you something."

Arthur tilted his head to the side. _Yes?_

"Er...I know it's not ideal..." Cobb said, shifting the weight on his feet and looking a bit uneasy. "But the mission starts in a few hours, and I thought it might be easier on us if we all just started from the same place."

He waited for this information to sink in. He tried not to wince when he saw Arthur's expression contort to panic.

"He promised not to talk though," Cobb said quickly, hoping that would calm the younger man's nerves a bit. "And I still haven't told him anything."

That caused Arthur to relax some, but he still gave Cobb a look that seem to say, _still though, how could you?_ Cobb sighed.

"I told you before and I'm going to say it again," he said. "He's going to find out eventually, whether you like it to not. I'll admit though, I'm surprised Eames hasn't figured it out by now."

"Figure out what, now?"

Both Cobb and Arthur froze upon hearing the forger's familiar British accent. Cobb wet his lips before turning towards Eames, the expression on his face calm and even. The forger's eyes flitted back and forth between the two men and he flashed them a small smile.

"Sorry, I happened to hear my name," Eames said. "And from what I've heard, I'm assuming there's something I should know about?"

Eames tilted his head towards Arthur when he said the last part, but the other man only lowered his eyes in response. Cobb sighed; so did Eames.

"Listen, Eames..." he started.

The forger put up a hand and shook his head. "Forget it, Cobb. It's clear Arthur doesn't want me to know, whatever it is. He'll tell me in due time, won't you, darling?"

Eames looked at Arthur somewhat expectantly, but the point man kept his eyes downcast. The forger let out a resigned laugh.

"And to think..." he said softly. "I thought things were getting better between us. I suppose not."

Arthur flinched. The other two men didn't seem to notice. Eames ran a hand through his slicked back hair.

"Well I'll be over in _that _corner, enjoying the view," Eames said, motioning casually to the HVAC system jutting out from under the windows; they were on the fourth floor of an abandoned building. "Just let me know when it's time, yes?"

Without waiting for either man to respond, Eames walked over to the corner where he had indicated he'd be. The next few hours go by in silence. Cobb was pretending to read a newspaper he had brought with him, and if Arthur's eyes were lasers, he would have burned a hole through his desk. Eames, meanwhile, appeared as if he were looking out the window, but really he had angled himself so that he could see Arthur's reflection in the glass. The point man's expression was set in deep concentration, as if he were contemplating something.

Finally, Arthur moved just a few minutes before the mission would start. Eames quickly shifted his focus to whatever was outside the window when he realized Arthur was headed in his direction. Cobb still acted as if he were reading his newspaper, but he watched Arthur's movements from the corner of his eye.

Eames turned to face Arthur when he felt the other man's hand on his shoulder, gently tugging him. The forger slightly tilted his head to the side.

"What is it, then, love?" he asked softly.

Arthur took a deep breath before lifting his right hand and placing it over approximately where the forger's heart should be. Eames frowned in confusion. Cobb's mouth opened slightly—he immediately recognized what Arthur was doing—and he slowly began to lower the newspaper he was holding. Staring hard at the forger's chest, Arthur pulled back his hand and formed it into a fist before bringing it towards his own chest. He then made a circular motion with his hand.

He was signing. _I'm sorry._

He stopped when the forger's hand clasped over his own. Arthur slowly looked up at the other man, who had a small smile on his face.

"This your way of apologizing, darling?" Eames said.

The look in Arthur's eyes was suddenly hopeful. Had the two men been paying attention, they would have noticed the look of surprise on Cobb's face.

"If that's the case, then I accept," said Eames. "Really though, Arthur."

The forger took the point man's hand and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss before continuing. "There's no need to be so shy—your words are as good here as they are when we're dreaming."

Arthur was flooded with various emotions at once. Eames had somehow managed to both crush his heart and make it flutter at the same time.

Cobb didn't know what he wanted to do more—smack his forehead or the forger's face. It was difficult to see the expression on Arthur's face change from hope to hurt. Cobb got up from his seat then, knowing he had to intervene. Fortunately, in this case, they all had to get moving anyway. The extractor cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the two men towards him.

"Time to go, gentlemen," he said.

Arthur moved first; he extricated his hand from the forger's grasp and shot Cobb a look before gathering his things and making his way out the door. _Told you he wouldn't understand_, the point man seemed to say.

"It's seems I've done something wrong again, haven't I?"

Cobb looked back at Eames, who had a frown on his face, and sighed.

"Not your fault," he said. "We'll talk later."

"Of course," Eames said dryly.


	11. When All That Could Go Wrong, Did

**Author's Note: **Oh, man! Talk about a difficult chapter to write out! I don't know why this chapter was so rough to get through, but it was! Honestly though, it was thanks to all the readers who reviewed that I was able to really grit my teeth and get through this part. Generally speaking, I just want to give an overarching thank you to all those who reviewed the last two chapters. I almost feel like people could sense I was hitting a massive writer's block—sure would explain the sudden flood of reviews. SO encouraging, let me tell you.

To **BattleCryBlue** - I don't know if this update was soon enough for you, but to make up for it, this is probably one of my longer chapters for this fic.

To **Booth Seeley Booth** - Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy my writing. Hopefully this chapter also is to your satisfaction.

To **CovenantGirlLoki** - Glad you're enjoying it. Hope this one is just as entertaining!

To **Billie Jane** - YOU make MY day with your long and thought out reviews! Hopefully I didn't keep you hanging _too _long with this one. Oh, and if it happens I've terribly butchered your native tongue, please let me know so I can fix it right away!

To **Rin** - Hello, one of my favorite anonymous guest reviewers ever! Hahaha. I really appreciate the compliment—I do try my best to make everyone seem believable and in character when I write, so I'm definitely glad to hear you feel that I do that well. And I enjoy writing very much and hope to only get better and better at the craft each time I write something new!

To **DeusAngeloEnd** - LOL! Thank you. Hope you see the update, I know it's been quite a few days.

To **Andorian Ice Princess-AIP** - My newly found ffnet friend. Oh how our PMs amuse me so! (Also, is it bad that I take a little pride that I hooked you, a non-slash fan onto my writing? Hahaha.) For that reason alone, compliments from you I savor greatly, because I know you wouldn't read it if you thought it was awful or unbearable. Sorry this update took so long, I was really super stuck. Better late than never though, no?

It is no understatement when I say I couldn't have done it with the support of all you readers. I only hope you guys enjoy this chapter as well, even if it's more of a transitional one.

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><p><strong>XI<strong>

Later came and went, but Cobb and Eames never really did get around to their intended conversation. The mission had gone awry, and horribly so. Never had the extraction team come across a mark that had been ready for them, but somehow on this particular mission the mark had. In fact, the mark had been two steps ahead of them the whole time.

Which is how Cobb and his team ended up, in the waking world, on the rooftop of a building opposite of the one the mark was standing on. That wasn't all, either. The mark had somehow gotten a hold of Cobb's wife, who was forced by gunpoint to stand dangerously close to the edge. Mal being the strong woman she was though, had on a brave face that didn't betray even an ounce of fear, not even in her eyes. She appeared to be calm and completely serene. Around her neck was a simple scarf, which fluttered about with the wind.

"Mal!" Cobb exclaimed as soon as he saw her.

"I'm fine," his wife called back. "I'm alone."

Cobb frowned. "Then where are...?"

_James and Phillipa_, their son and daughter. Cobb didn't ask the tail end of his question.

"Gone!" Mal called back with a small smile. "_Miles _away."

_Safe. They're with their grandfather_. Cobb let out a shaky breath. It was mild comfort. Mal flinched when the mark poked her backside with the barrel of his gun.

"Shut up!" he said.

On Cobb's side of things, there was only Eames and Arthur. The rest of the team was scattered; Yusuf had only been responsible for providing them the compounds they needed, so he had stayed behind at his shop in Mombasa. And at some point, Ariadne had made a break for it to contact Saito when plans had gone sour.

"This ain't one of your parlor tricks, charlatan," the deranged mark called from the other rooftop. "This be the real thing, now."

Cobb's jaw clenched once; he knew. "You're making a big mistake here."

"Oh, am I?" the mark sneered. "I be thinking I've got some pretty good leverage right here. Get it? Pretty?"

Cobb bristled when the mark nudged at his wife. "You keep your hands off her!"

"Or you'll _what_?" the mark snapped. "Nothing, am I right? Yeah, thought so. _I'm_ calling the shots here, man, not you."

"What's the plan, Cobb?" Eames asked in a low voice. "The odds aren't looking good."

"You think I don't know that?" Cobb hissed back.

He shook his head at Arthur, who was sitting on the ground, hidden from view behind the wall of the ledge and preparing a long-range firearm he had at his disposal. The point man reluctantly halted in his actions, face tight.

"Look, let's talk this out," Cobb said, trying to keep control of his emotions. "What is it that you want?"

"Ah, there it is," the mark said, laughing. "Li'll mousey knows it's caught so it's trying to strike a bargain. That's rich."

Cobb's jaw set. The mark laughed some more.

"I don't want anything, man," the mark continued. "I just like watching you lot squirm. Give you all a taste of your own medicine—it's not fun when your heads are the ones being messed with, is it?"

Just then, Arthur's phone pinged with a text message from Ariadne. His expression darkened when he read the message. Help wasn't coming; at such short notice, any resources Saito could provide would not be able to make it to their location in time. The pained look on Cobb's face crushed Arthur when he saw it; even without Arthur relaying Ariadne's message, he could tell Cobb already had an idea of what she might have said.

On the opposite rooftop, Mal watched the expression on her husband's face change from hopeful to grim; subtle differences that only those closest to the man would readily notice, like herself and Arthur. She did not know if Cobb had a plan, but outside help would not be coming, of that she was most certain. So she steeled herself for the worst.

Which is why she was prepared for the message conveyed in her husband's eyes when they met her own; that there was no plan. Mal gave her husband a small smile then; she knew what she had to do. After all, she was the daughter of a retired general.

Without giving any sort of warning, she made her move before her husband had the chance to realize what she was plotting, and managed to take the mark by surprise as well. In several swift movements, she managed to twist the gun out of the mark's hand. Unfortunately, even with her preemptive strike, she was still at a disadvantage in terms of strength. At some point during the scuffle, the mark had regained some of his bearings and so when Mal pushed him over the edge of the building, he took her with him. Cobb took several steps forward where he was, eyes wide in shock.

"No! Mal!"

Mal let out a scream, half in terror and half out of frustration. At the last second she had been able to grab hold of a jutted out ledge, but her grip was slipping; the mark had a tight hold of her ankle and was cursing up a storm.

Cobb was frantic. He looked over at Arthur, who was already positioned to fire at the mark.

"Arthur!" Cobb said. "Can you do it? Do you have a clear shot?"

The point man didn't respond, focusing all his mental energies on keeping his hands steady and taking aim. Down below, passersby were beginning to notice the spectacle; some had stopped and were point up at what was going on above them. A few in their crowd were getting out their cell phones, some to call emergency services, others to take heartless camera footage. There would be a hell of a media circus that the extraction team would have to find a way to contain later, but for now those thoughts were furthest from all their minds.

Knowing he had no time to waste, Arthur sucked in a small, short breath just before he took the shot. His body jerked back in recoil as the bullet discharged from its chamber. The projectile went clean through the mark's neck, killing him instantly. Mal was immediately released from the now deceased man's grip and she let out another cry as she tried to renew her hold on the ledge. Exclamations could be heard from the thickening crowd below, and several people dove out of the way to avoid the falling body.

"Shit, Mal!" Cobb shouted.

He turned to look for Eames, but at some point the forger had disappeared. Cobb looked at Arthur, hoping for some sort of explanation. The point man shook his head.

_I don't know where he went. _Arthur signed. _I didn't see him leave._

"Damnit, Eames!" Cobb cursed, pulling out his cell phone.

Eames answered on the second ring. "Can't talk, Cobb."

"Eames, where the hell are you?" Cobb asked angrily.

"Ran as soon as I saw her move," Eames said. "Elevator is almost to the first floor now. Off to the second building as soon as I'm out. How much time have I got?"

Cobb's anger subsided some, but his anxiety grew. "Not a lot, Eames. Mal forced the mark off the roof, but the mark took her with him.

Eames cursed. "Bugger!"

Cobb swallowed. "Arthur's disposed of the mark, but Mal..."

He watched with dread as his wife dangled from the side of the building. Arthur's eyes flitted back and forth between Cobb and Mal, his face pale.

"She doesn't have a lot of time, Eames," he said in an audible, but softer tone. "Please hurry."

"I'll do my best, yeah?" Eames said before cutting off the connection as he fired off into the thick crowd at the base of the two buildings, roughly pushing his way through to the other side.

The call ended, Cobb leaned against the edge of his building and called out to his wife. "Just a few more minutes, honey, please! Just hang on for a few more minutes!"

"I'm trying, Dom!"

Cobb turned his head when he felt a hard pat on his shoulder; Arthur wanted his attention. Cobb's eyebrows furrowed.

"What is it, Arthur?"

_There's something there, on the edge. _Arthur signed urgently. _I saw it through the telescope on my rifle._

He motioned at his neck. _Her scarf. See if she can wrap her scarf around it._

Cobb wet his bottom lip with his tongue. "Will it hold?"

Arthur hesitated. _I...I don't know, Dom. Maybe it will, maybe it won't. _

"But it's worth a try, is that what you're saying?"

The point man's lips pressed into a firm line. Cobb let out a small sigh.

"All right," he said. "You're right. It's worth a shot."

Cobb turned back in the direction of his wife. "Mal! Mal, are you listening to me, honey?"

Her wife let out another scream of exasperation before responding through gritted teeth. "I'm listening, Dom!"

"Arthur says he sees something up there, something you might be able to wrap your scarf around. Can you feel around for it, honey? Do you think you can figure out what he's talking about?"

Mal let out a loud groan as she tried her best to reach up further with one of her arms. She almost lost her grip entirely however, and one of her shoes slipped off her foot, falling to the ground.

"Dom!" she called back. "Dom, I can't, I'm so sorry..."

"Oh God..." Cobb said. "Oh, Mal, it's all right. It's all right! Just hang on!"

Just then his phone vibrated in his hand; it was a call from Eames. Cobb growled into the phone.

"Eames! Where _are _you?"

"Inside the building," came the forger's quick reply. "Fucking crowd of invalids kept me from getting here sooner. What floor is she closest to, Cobb? I need to know."

"Third from the top," Cobb said, voice tight. "Eames...I don't know if—"

"Third from the top, got it, thank you," Eames said before abruptly terminating the call.

On the other side, Mal pressed her face gently into her arm, wiping away the tears that had formed in her eyes. She breathed in and out slowly; she wasn't going to be able to hold on for much longer and she knew it. She muttered a few prayers under her breath for her family, Arthur, Eames, the rest of the extraction team, and herself. Then she closed her eyes tight and clenched her jaw, forcing her face into a neutral expression before turning to look over her shoulder. She could only see her husband partially out of the corner of her eye.

"Mal!"

"Dom!" she called out. "Dom, listen to me."

"No," Cobb said, shaking his head. "No, no, no, don't look at me like that, Mal. I know that look! Don't look at me like that!"

His wife let out a small laugh. "Oh, Dom..."

"No! Mal, just a few seconds longer, honey, please! Eames is on his way up! He's in the elevator now, coming up to get you!"

"I can't hold on any longer, Dom!"

"Mal!"

If Arthur could have screamed, he would have at that point as well. Instead, all that could come out of his mouth was a raspy breath.

Mal, as they all knew, was one incredible woman. She knew how to fight, but she also knew when to accept a loss. Her last words were shouted, but they cut through the air so clearly that it almost felt to Cobb and Arthur as if she said them at a normal volume. The small calm and reassuring smile that was faint on her lips would be an image forever burned in to their memories.

"_Je t'aime_, Dom," Mal said, her eyes glassy from tears. "_Vous également_, Arthur!"

Another call came in to Cobb's cell phone from Eames, but this time the extractor was too distracted to respond. The forger had just come onto the floor when he realized he had no idea which window he needed to go to.

"No!" Cobb screamed. "No! No, Mal!"

"Tell my darlings, Mommy loves them," Mal continued. "_Je vous embrasse!"_

Then she turned back around, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let go. She dropped quickly, but the flapping of the scarf wrapped around her neck gave the illusion that she was falling slowly and gracefully. There were shouts of horror that erupted from the streets below, and people scattered so as to avoid the falling body. The scream that came out of Cobb was guttural and barbaric. Arthur grabbed him and brought him down to the ground, in case the man thought to do anything rash. Cobb was too distressed to fight back.

Eames had seen Mal's body fly downward from the window of a room he had just entered, and the hand that had been holding the cell phone dropped slowly to his side. The silence for him was deafening, even with a million thoughts simultaneously rushing through his mind and the roar of the crowd from below. After a few minutes he quickly ran back to the elevator. His priority now was to make a clean getaway, and with the streets still thick with people, he knew that his best opportunity would be in that moment. He did not plan on wasting any more time and only hoped that Cobb and Arthur would do the same.

Arthur was the first to snap out of his stunned state. He was gentle but firm when he shook Cobb to get the other man's attention. Cobb looked at him, though he was still clearly in a daze. Arthur's eyes were shiny with tears. He mouthed the words as he signed with his hands, which were trembling.

_Dom. We __**need **__to __**go**__. _

Cobb just stared at Arthur blankly at first. Arthur's jaw clenched, and there was a slight ripple in the muscles on the side of his face as he tried to keep control. He moved his hands slowly and managed to keep them steady.

_There's nothing we can do now, you know that. We __**have **__to __**go**__. Come on. Get up._

Then the extractor did move, but it was as if he were on autopilot. Gone was the man of action; Cobb was now a shell of his former self, simply going through the motions as Arthur led him down the stairs to an elevator. They soon reached the ground floor and made their way outside. Though the streets were still very loud and bustling with chaos, both men were numb to the sounds—it was as if they were enveloped in an invisible bubble of silence. They were absorbed by the sea of people and were able to slip away without much incident.

####

The funeral is still and quiet. It's a partly-cloudy, warm afternoon. No one speaks during the ceremony, and those shedding tears do so with no sound.

Eames doesn't approach Arthur until the end, after the casket has been lowered and Cobb has gone to be alone for a while. He places a gentle hand on the point man's shoulder, feeling it tighten on instinct before relaxing when Arthur sees who it is behind him. The forger offers the faintest of smiles, which Arthur returns with a tired one of his own.

When Eames doesn't say anything, Arthur turns his attention back to Mal's headstone, and Eames drops his hand. They stand like that for a while. Eames tries several times to say something, but ultimately he decides against saying anything at all because the timing is just not appropriate. So at some point, Arthur is left alone and the point man doesn't realize it until much later, when he turns around expecting Eames only to find the man has long since gone.

Eames left assuming the team would get back together someday, not counting on the fact that Cobb would later send him notice through Saito that all extraction projects would be halted until further notice. Of course, in hindsight he'd realize that he shouldn't have been surprised by that at all, and furthermore mentally kick himself for at the very least not obtaining some way to keep in touch with Arthur.

The forger knows better than to tap into Saito's resources. For one thing, he doesn't want to owe the Japanese businessman any favors. Additionally, Eames knows Arthur is the best point man in the world of dreams and extraction—he is not only efficient, his methods are effective, and Eames knows that the man will only be found if he _wants _that to be the case.

A year goes by without word. One day though, Eames finds the point man again.


	12. The Café in Paris

**Author's Note:**I know, I know...this is a super short chapter, BUT I promise next chapter will be longer. I had this ready last night, but I waited until this morning to post it because I wanted to make sure I wanted to leave things the way they are here before uploading it.

I totally forgot to mention last chapter, but thanks SO MUCH to all the new people who have added this story to the favorites, set it on alert, or both.

To **Billie Jane** - In response to your PM, you are most welcome, and _thank you _so much as well for helping me keep things accurate here. It is most appreciated!

To **Andorian Ice Princess-AIP **- I can almost see you wagging your finger at me like "Lies! This is so short!" and it is, but like I said, I promise the next chapter will be much longer, hahaha.

The next chapter might take a little bit before it gets out. I know how I want things to pan out, but I can't seem to type fast enough to match the speed the ideas are running through my mind. Blah. Hopefully I'll get it out within the next few days and not have another gap of a week or two.

As always, reviews are loved and appreciated.

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><p><strong>XII<strong>

Somewhat appropriately, they meet again in the City of Love. Eames wasn't sure if he had Lady Luck to thank, or if Arthur had gotten a bit sloppy as a result of being a little too comfortable while in hiding. Then again, perhaps subconsciously, the point man was ready to be found.

After spending some time traveling to various places around the globe, the forger decided to make a stop in Paris. He arrived in the city during the evening and checked into a hotel. The very next morning, he decided to go about and stroll the city. He had no particular agenda in mind, though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't keeping an eye out for the point man. Eames knew Paris was Arthur's favorite city, and as much of a long shot as it was, the forger felt like he had to try.

####

Eames had only meant to stay for a short while, but before he knew it, the forger had remained in Paris for almost a full month. By that point, he had visited most of the major sights that the area had to offer. Hungry, he had decided to stop to grab a quite bite to eat for lunch at a small local café. A server had come by shortly after he had taken his seat and he placed his order before settling in and scanning the area. He had been about to slip into a daydreaming state of sorts when a sudden stillness that he noticed from the corner of his eye, which had somehow seemed out of place, suddenly caught his attention. Several feet away from where he sat, Eames thought he saw someone who looked rather familiar to him. Before he had the chance to look more carefully, however, he became distracted by his server, who had returned with his pastry and some water to drink. When he turned his head back around to get a better look at what he thought he had seen, Eames was disappointed to find that the person had left.

At first, Eames had wondered if he had imagined it, but then he noticed the coffee cup, abandoned and still on the table. The forger wasn't completely certain, but something told him that this was no coincidence; that perhaps he had finally found what, or rather _who_ he had been looking for.

To him, the abrupt disappearance meant more likely than not that he had been noticed. Unable to help it, the forger's lips curled into a small smile. He was almost certain the man who had been sitting at that table had been Arthur, and it appeared as if he were challenged to give chase. At that point, Eames decided, it was _game on_.

Eames knew that at the very core, Arthur was a creature of habit. He knew from observing the man, that Arthur was not the type to choose even leisurely venues flippantly, and that once he found a place he liked, he tended to stick with it. Now though Eames knew there was a good chance Arthur would be changing his strategy and thus changing venue, at the forger's core, he was a gambler, and so he decided to take his chances and keep tabs on the area.

For the first few days that followed, Eames avoided the area entirely. The forger was normally not the patient sort, but this was a mission where he knew it would probably serve him better if he took his time. He kept himself from returning to the café too soon, in the case Arthur was watching his movements as well.

In the meantime, he visited a library and did some research on the Internet. He discovered that there was a bookstore located across the street from the café that would give him a decent vantage point, and he decided that was where he would hide and keep watch.

Trying to forge a different identity in reality was not nearly as easy to do as it was in dreamspace, but Eames had come up with a plausible disguise so that he would not be quick to recognize. He dressed himself in street clothes that were more "acceptable" than his usual preference in dress. He also paid a visit to a barber to get a haircut and shave. Arthur had only ever seen him with, at the very least, a stubble and slicked back hair. Eames knew he looked quite different when cleaned up. He topped off his outfit with a pair of sunglasses; nothing fancy, just a cheap pair.

It became his new daily routine—Eames would get up, go to the bookstore and leaf through a couple books. Occasionally he would venture over to the magazine rack by the windows and pretended to flip through pages when he was really looking across the street.

His careful approach finally paid off one afternoon, a couple months later. Eames had gotten so used to the monotony of going through the motions that he almost missed his opportunity. For some reason though, on that particular day, Eames felt a strange pulling sensation that made him look out the window at the exact moment a young gentleman sat down at one of the café's outdoor tables. Eames blinked his eyes a few times to make sure it was Arthur he was really seeing, and it was. The forger then wasted no time in placing the magazine back on the rack before swiftly making his way over to the other side of the street.

He waited for Arthur to settle in with his reading material before approaching the table and slipping into the seat across from the point man. He chuckled when he saw Arthur's posture tighten. He took of his sunglasses, folded them, and set them on the table.

"Hello, darling," he said as Arthur slowly lowered the book he was reading. "It's been far too long now, hasn't it?"


	13. The Offbeat Reunion

**Author's Note: **First of all, _wow_. About two years ago, this fic was only four chapters long and had about ten reviews tacked onto it. Honestly, I did not think that anyone would care about this fic after almost two full years of silence, and I certainly didn't expect to get as much feedback as I did on it. It amazes me that I log in today to see the number of reviews on this fiction. Sure it's not like a million people or anything, but I still find it amazing. Thank you all, loyal readers.

To **Billie Jane **- You are the best, as always. Your PMs always crack me up, and your reviews definitely lift my spirits. I don't know if this update came out fast enough for you, but here it is.

To the guest reviewer, **tella** - LOL. So sorry. I hope this chapter more than makes up with your frustration.

To **Booth Seeley Booth **- Three things. 1) I am so glad to hear you enjoyed chapter 11. That was a really tough chapter to plug out for some reason. 2) In your chapter 12 review, I could have totally been evil and read that as "no more, I don't want anymore of this story." Lolol. Good thing I didn't, eh? 3) I keep forgetting to say this, but want to know something cool? I did a little research on the stats on this story. You were THE very first to ever follow this story, add it to your alerts, AND review it when I posted it about three years ago. Kind of cool, right?

To **Andorian Ice Princess-AIP** - First of all, hope you enjoy this chapter. I tried to make it less cliffy, just for you. :p Secondly, originally I had planned for the next chapter to be this fic's last. After having written this one though, I realized that might not exactly work. So I've decided to make this one a tad longer than I had originally planned. It's definitely getting down to the wire now, but I think we've got a little bit more left to go.

To **Katyannedelaney **- Welcome! I would consider it good timing you've jumped on this fic now, haha. Some of these readers had been waiting for an update for two years. I know, it was terrible of me. I'd like to think I more than made up for it now. Hahaha.

By the way, this chapter is dedicated to **BreakOnThrough**, who wanted at least one more chapter in Arthur's POV.

As promised, here is a super long chapter (in fact, I think this one is the longest one yet for this story). Hope you all enjoy. As always, reviews are loved and appreciated! Oh yeah, and keep your fingers crossed I won't hit another lengthy writer's block!

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><p><strong>XIII<strong>

"_Un croissant, s'il vous plait. Merci."_

Arthur felt himself stiffen when he heard the familiar voice. The point man took in a small breath before daring to peek around the newspaper he was reading. He felt his face flush slightly when his heart fluttered at the sight of the British forger; it had been so long since he had last seen the man and heard his voice. Not to mention that Eames had _cleaned up_, and rather nicely too. Arthur hadn't thought that was possible. He had been actively avoiding the forger, and that had been for a number of reasons. Initially, he had been upset when Eames didn't seem to make the connection when he signed his apology to the forger. Then, he had gotten angry when the forger seemingly disappeared without a trace at Mal's funeral. His decision to avoid the forger afterward was childish, Arthur knew, but he hadn't been able to help it.

For a while, Arthur had tracked the forger's movements, using what resources he had available. He found himself further disappointed to discover Eames to be in a state of leisurely travel and appearing as if he didn't have a care in the world. In the back of his mind, the point man knew his feelings of irritation were illogical, but that seemed to be the norm for him whenever anything came up regarding Eames.

At some point, Arthur had stopped caring, or perhaps more accurately, he was too stubborn to break his ironic silence and personally reach out to Eames. He eventually stopped keeping such a close eye on the forger's whereabouts. Which was why suddenly seeing Eames in Paris had taken the point man completely be surprise.

Quite possibly for the first time in his life, the point man had reacted emotionally as opposed to rationally. Though he was almost certain the forger had seen him, Arthur had taken off anyway. It was only after he had gone a considerable distance from the café that Arthur mentally kicked himself for having left behind his cup of coffee—glaring evidence that he had been there. He could only hope that Eames didn't see him after all. He reluctantly came to the decision to avoid the café for a while though, just in case. It was better to be safe than sorry, and the point man wasn't sure what he'd say, or if he was even ready to have a conversation with the forger.

His rhythmic schedule interrupted, Arthur made a beeline for apartment he had been renting since he'd arrived in the city. As soon as he made it, he locked the door behind him, kicked off his shoes and flopped on his couch. He thought to text Cobb about what had just occurred, but then halted mid-type when he realized he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted the other man to know, much less what he was expecting from the other man in response.

Arthur deleted the text message draft, shut his phone, and lowered it, resting it on top of his lips. He put his other arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, brows furrowed in concentration as he did an internal analysis of his situation.

First question—_what did he want to tell Cobb? _

He shook his head as he thought this. That was too broad. It was the main question he needed answered, true, but it also needed to be simplified. So Arthur tried again. He shifted his focus to Eames, a man whom since they'd met, had somehow always become the central reason for all his inner turmoil.

_What__** about **__Eames?_

What indeed. Arthur snorted to himself as soon as he had the thought, and perhaps it was even appropriate that he was now imagining Cobb asking him these questions.

_Are you mad at him?_

The point man sighed. Maybe at first, he had been, but not now.

_So what, then?_

Arthur closed his eyes as he thought harder. He brought back the memory of seeing Eames at the café earlier, and he tried to recall what his initial thoughts had been upon seeing the man.

_Were you surprised?_

There was Cobb's voice again, whispering in his mind, asking the questions he was really asking himself. Had he been surprised? Yes, Arthur supposed he had been. After all, he hadn't seen the British man in a year since Mal's passing.

_All right. So when you saw him, you weren't angry, and you were surprised. What else?_

Eyes still closed, Arthur raised an eyebrow—this imaginary Cobb was starting to take on a life of its own. He thought about the question though, but before he could think of an answer, he was posed another.

_Did you miss him?_

Arthur frowned. He wasn't sure where that thought had come from, but at the same time he found that he couldn't deny its relevance, so he entertained the idea.

_Okay, so say you missed him. What do you think that means?_

Arthur wasn't sure. In order to answer that question, he needed to first answer another.

_**Why**__ do you think you missed him?_

This took a little more consideration. There were so many reasons as to why he might have missed the forger. The way the man talked, for one, and it wasn't so much the accent as it was the _words _the man said; the subtle jabs and occasional sarcastic remarks that made Arthur laugh as much as they annoyed him at the same time.

Several other memories resurfaced then, like the time Eames surprised him with the pair of red dice he had lifted from one of Saito's casinos—a trinket that Arthur had treasured ever since. There was also that moment in Cobb's guest room, the night where Arthur could have sworn Eames had almost kissed him, but unfortunately, the man hadn't.

_Unfortunately? Then, did you want him to?_

Arthur's eyes opened then, shocked by the sudden thought, but also by the instant realization that he _had _been disappointed. It was amazing how quickly his thought process rattled on after that.

_Arthur, do you...?_

The point man flushed. He didn't need to finish off the tail end of the question to know what his imaginary Cobb was trying to ask him, and the answer was undoubtedly _yes_.

_Is that why you missed him?_

_Yes._

_So because you missed him, and you weren't expecting to ever see him again, you were surprised?_

_Yes._

_Were you happy to see him?_

_Yes._

_Then why did you run?_

Arthur frowned. Imaginary Cobb was unrelenting.

_Arthur. __**Why **__did you run?_

The point man got up into a sitting position on the couch then. He could deny it all he wanted, but he did know why. He was still afraid.

_Why, Arthur? __**Why **__are you afraid? Is it because you can't speak in reality? Is that it?_

Only partially. There was something else too.

_What? What else, Arthur?_

Arthur shook his head; he didn't want to answer the question. Imaginary Cobb though, was persistent.

_Is it because..._

_Don't say it._

_...you love him?_

Arthur sighed. _I don't know._

_You love him._

_I don't know!_

_You sure about that?_

Arthur rubbed his temple. It seemed a side effect of working for a long time in the field of extraction was the subconscious taking on a voice and characteristics of an unruly projection even in a waking state.

_Okay, so what if I do? What does it matter?_

_Why wouldn't it?_

_I couldn't tell you._

_Maybe you're afraid __**he**__ doesn't._

The point man heaved another heavy sigh, silenced his irksome subconscious version of Cobb, and finally got up from his seat. Talking to himself in this fashion had never been a serious habit until after he had been introduced to the dreaming world, but it was one he used often afterward, to help him sort out his thoughts. Perhaps it also had a lot to do with the fact that he had to live day-to-day with the reality of mandatory silence. Normally, it was a comfort. In this case though, it was disconcerting. Arthur could not deny that his subconscious was spot on not just about some of the things, but of _all _the things that it said.

Arthur had missed Eames all this time, whether he chose to consciously acknowledge it or not. He'd been surprised at the forger's sudden appearance not just because he hadn't been prepared for it, but because part of him had always wanted the British man to be back within reach and most of all, back for _him_. He had run because he was afraid, because he doesn't know whether or not Eames loves him back and if he does, whether or not he's just in love with the _idea _of Arthur. The Arthur who can speak, and therefore is _normal_. He doesn't know, and it makes his heart ache, because he does indeed feel affection towards the other man. The funny thing of it all too is, Arthur isn't even sure when _that _happened; it had just crept up on him at some point. And Arthur was not about to think too deeply about that, because that was just a whole other can of worms he wasn't ready to open yet, if ever.

He paced around his living room several times in order to clear his head. After a few minutes, he was able to come to a decision. First, he would finish the rest of his day and pretend as if everything was still going according to schedule. That meant he would first take a shower, have dinner, brush his teeth, and then turn in for the night. Then, the first thing the next morning, he would hop onto the Internet and do a little bit of research on other—preferably quaint—locations where he could spend his lunch hours.

Truth be told, Arthur was about to play a dangerous game. He was challenging fate. Knowing what he did about the forger, at best, Eames would probably try and wait for him at the café for at least a few days. Arthur's tendency to be a little bit on the obsessive-compulsive side had never really been a secret, so on the assumption that the forger _had _seen him, Arthur was almost certain that Eames would try to casually run into him the next time he went. However, Arthur was also sure Eames would give up looking for him, at least at that spot anyway, if the point man didn't show up for several days.

As soon as the next morning arrived, Arthur did his research, found a new location that he found suitable, and began going there during the early afternoon hours. Without meaning to, he soon became accustomed to that location. Without the immediate reminder of Eames, the reason for his switch in venue slowly became more of a faded memory in the point man's mind.

One day though, while reading, Arthur's mind had unintentionally wandered and somehow his mind became filled with Eames. In that moment, he became overwhelmed with a surge of regret, and somehow he found himself running to catch the next bus that would take him back to the café where he had seen Eames.

All the while on the way back, several thoughts cycled in Arthur's mind like a song left on repeat. They were, _I hope he hasn't given up, please let me not be too late, _and _if Eames is still there, then it was meant to be._

Arthur made it back to the café late in the afternoon. He was disappointed, but not surprised to find the forger was nowhere in sight. The brunette reasoned with himself though and decided to look at the bright side; at least in a way, he had his old lunch spot back. He sat down at one of the outdoor tables and took out the book he was reading for the week; trying to focus on the words on the pages and not on the dull pain in his chest.

His heart practically stopped when he heard the scrape of the chair across from him being pulled back and felt more than saw someone plop down in front of him. Had the point man's eyes been lasers, they would have borne a hole clean through the text upon hearing the familiar, accented drawl.

"_Hello, darling. It's been far too long now, hasn't it?"_

For a moment, Arthur didn't dare look up. He was frozen and didn't seem to know how he wanted to react. After a few seconds, he slowly lowered his book and lifted his brown eyes to meet the forger's ever-changing blue ones. There was a warm smile on the British man's lips that made the point man's heart skip a beat. Eames leaned forward slightly and Arthur felt a little tingle run down his arm when the forger's fingertips brushed lightly over his hand.

"Tell me, love," Eames said softly. "How have you been? Why did you make yourself so scarce?"

Arthur didn't respond, and Eames sighed. The forger ran a hand through his hair and shifted his posture so that he was now leaning back in his seat.

"Really, darling," he said. "Must you always be so difficult?"

Arthur frowned and shook his head. Without much thought, he reached out a hand and wrapped it around one of the forger's own. The other man's eyes furrowed and Arthur felt his face flush as he felt Eames regard him curiously. Eames clasped his hand tightly when the point man tried to pull it away.

The forger spoke gently, running a thumb up and down Arthur's hand. "You look like you want to tell me something. What is it, darling?"

Arthur worried his bottom lip. He looked up at the forger and then held up a finger before using his free hand to reach into a pocket to pull out his phone. Eames raised an eyebrow and then sighed when Arthur held up the phone for him to see. This time when Arthur tried to take back his hand, Eames let it go. The look on the forger's face was clearly one of disappointment, that Arthur appeared to be finding it a priority to make a phone call rather than respond to his question, but the point man could sense that resentment turn into curiosity when Arthur opened the phone not to make a call, but to compose a series of text messages.

Perhaps it had something to do with his speech impairment, or maybe it was more due to Arthur's obsessive-compulsive personality, but when Arthur wrote text messages, they were always in full, complete sentences with proper spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Perhaps out of common courtesy, those whom he texted with regularly tended to reciprocate with the same. Trying his best to ignore the forger's inquisitive gaze on him, Arthur began rapidly typing out a message to Cobb.

The first one read like this: _Dom, I'm at a loss. I don't know what to do._

Cobb's response had come back almost immediately. He was usually pretty good at responding quickly, at least for Arthur, anyway.

_What is it? What's wrong? Is everything all right?_

Arthur's typed out another message hastily. _Everything's fine. It's just...he's here._

The point man's phone pinged again with Cobb's swift reply. _What? Where are you? And who is "he"? Arthur, you're going to have to be more specific than that. It's not like you to be so vague. _

Arthur looked up at Eames a moment, who raised an eyebrow and simply gave a small shrug as if to say, _go on, finish what you have to, I can wait. _He gave Eames a slight nod and a small, apologetic smile before returning his attention to his phone.

_Right, I'm sorry_, he typed. _I'm in Paris. Sitting at a café. It's Eames._

Another ding. _Oh._

_So what should I do?_

There was a moment's hesitation, and Arthur held his breath. The incoming message tone sounded a few seconds later.

_Listen, I've been meaning to ask you this for a while now, Arthur. Do you care for him?_

Arthur wet his bottom lip nervously before replying. _Care for him? Eames, you mean?_

_Yes, Arthur. Who else could we possibly be talking about at this moment?_

_Right, touch__é__, and to answer your question...I do. At least, I think so._

The next message from Cobb came back almost immediately. _Then why not just tell him? Just write it out somewhere, or type an explanation and show it to him._

_I...don't know._

_What is there to know? I think he cares for you too, Arthur, and deeply._

Another message came in from Cobb while Arthur was in mid-type for his response. _Mal...she thought so too. If anything, you know you can trust her instincts on the matter._

Now it was the point man's turn to pause. It wasn't easy for Cobb to talk about his deceased wife, so Arthur knew the man wouldn't have said what he had unless it was actually true. In light of that, Arthur read his next message a few times over before pressing the send button.

_Yes, but probably only because he thinks he's heard me speak, and that's only in dreams._

Cobb's response was immediate. _So what? It really is about time he knows, Arthur. I'm sure he can handle it, given our line of work._

_But what if...what if he __**doesn't **__accept me?_

_Then clearly he's not worth your time. Come on, Arthur, it's not like you to be so afraid._

There it was, the point man mused. The real Cobb not knowing why Arthur was still hesitating. Perhaps his subconscious projection of the man hadn't been so far off the mark after all. The point man couldn't help but half-smile as he typed his response.

_Right. You're right. Okay, I'll tell him. Thanks, Dom._

_Good. Let me know how it goes...and if I need to make a hit on someone's life later._

Arthur smiled a bit more, and he typed back his reply. _Okay._

His smile faded when he looked back up at the forger, as he suddenly became uncertain again. Before he could change his mind and before Eames could say anything though, Arthur took in a deep breath, opened a new text message file, and began typing out what he wanted to say to Eames. When he was finished, he quickly skimmed over the contents of the message once before turning his phone around on the table and pushing it towards the forger. Eames raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but he took the phone and began to read what Arthur had written.

_Eames, there's something I need to tell you about me_, the message started. _In fact, the more I think about it, maybe I should have told you this a long time ago._

There was a pause in the forger's reading as he needed to scroll down to see more of the message. The British man's expression seemed to become more and more confused as he read further along.

_Remember back to when we first met? You asked me at one point whether or not I had a totem, and I had told you that I do and don't, that it's an in-between thing for me. Do you remember that?_

Eames nodded and handed the phone back to Arthur; the point man had let the message end there with the intention to have Eames return the phone to him as he had so that he could continue his explanation. The forger waited patiently as Arthur typed the next set of words for him. He took the phone from Arthur again once the point man was done and continued reading.

_Here's what I had meant by that. I know when I'm in reality because in reality...I...do not have the ability to speak. _

Eames frowned and he looked up at Arthur, who gave him a pained smile and motioned to his neck. The point man patted his chest before clasping a hand around his neck. He moved his lips and motioned to them with his hands, waving his hands as if he were waving goodbye, to further illustrate his inability to speak. Eames, still frowning, shook his head.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," he said.

He handed back the phone when Arthur motioned for it. Again, the point man typed out another message before returning it to the forger.

_I don't know how much clearer I can make this for you, Eames. I know it's hard to believe, but I've never __**not **__wanted to speak to you, I just __**can't**__. I don't have a voice, Eames. _

The forger's frown deepened. "What are you going on about? What a crock of shit, Arthur. I _know _you can talk, darling. I've _heard _you."

Heat was starting to rise in the point man's cheeks and his eyes were beginning to sting. He motioned for the phone again. He typed out another message and gave it back to Eames once more.

_No, Eames. You __**haven't**__. That was all in dreamspace. Don't you get it? It's __**not real**__. Anything can happen there, even give someone something they can't have in the real world, like paralyzed people being given the ability to walk or run. Anything can happen on the dream plane._

This time, Arthur was hopeful when Eames didn't respond right away. That hope was crushed though, when he saw the look of disbelief and irritation on the other man's face. The man was unamused and unmoved.

"Arthur, really, this isn't funny," Eames said. "You're taking this joke a little too far, aren't you? Reconstructing limbs is one thing, but creating your own voice when you don't have one? I don't think so."

The point man snatched his phone back angrily and typed one more message. This time he didn't let the other man take the phone back. Instead, he held it up to the forger's face so that he could read the message.

It read: _I'm __**not **__joking, Eames, and you're an idiot and an asshole._

After having shown him the text, Arthur put the phone back in his pocket, got up from his seat, and chucked the water from his glass at the forger's face. Since there had been no yelling to draw attention to their fight, only the couple who had been sitting at the table next to them stopped their conversation to look over at the two men curiously. Eames sputtered and quickly reached for a napkin to wipe his face down.

"Well that was uncalled for, wasn't it, love?" Eames snapped.

Unwanted tears sprang forth from Arthur's eyes and rained down his cheeks. Arthur's sudden emotional outburst seemed to stun the forger. Ashamed and embarrassed, Arthur turned on his heels and began to walk quickly away from the other man.

Eames was soon behind him, apparently having regained his senses seconds later. He grabbed Arthur's arm.

"Now, darling, wait just a minute—" Eames started to say, but was cut off when Arthur whirled around on him and smacked him hard on the face.

Later, Arthur would berate himself for having performed such an action, but at that very point in time he hadn't really cared; he was angry. The forger's eyes widened and his mouth was slightly dropped in shock, and all eyes of those within close proximity of the spectacle were now on them. Eames looked at the point man incredulously. Arthur also seemed to be going through a number of different emotions at once, as his face contorted and fluctuated between several different expressions, and the last thing Eames saw before Arthur wrenched his hand out of the forger's grip and walked briskly away was the tears flowing hard down the point man's face.


	14. A Short Lecture and the Moments After

**Author's Note:** So here's another one of those more transition-like chapters, and it's probably the last one this story is going to have. Also, I was responding to a request from a reader with this fic, much like I did with the chapter titled "Casino Flashback," which was a much earlier chapter. Hopefully this doesn't seem rushed or feel too out of place, since this wasn't the original transition that I had in mind for this point of the story.

To **Billie Jane** - Your PMs and reviews have motivated me so much while writing this. Seriously, thank you so much. Glad to hear you enjoyed the last chapter. It was definitely a style difference and a bit of an experiment, but it seems like at least a small handful of people enjoyed it, which is good enough for me.

To **BreakOnThrough **- For some reason I always imagine Eames bringing out some childish/immature characteristics of our normally calm, cool, and collected point man. In regards to your review, I'm not sure if you will really find what you're looking for here, but I know next chapter will have at least a small hint of it.

To **Andorian Ice Princess-AIP **- You are another lovely reader whose PMs just keep me going. I'm not sure if this chapter is going to meet your expectations, but I did my best for a last minuteish change!

As always (I know, I'm like a broken record), reviews, PMs, follows, alerts, what have you are all always appreciated. Thank you to all those who have favorited this story (or myself) to your favorites list(s)!

* * *

><p><strong>XIV<strong>

Eames stood where he was and did not immediately move to chase after the point man; he was still processing what had just occurred. He frowned when he felt eyes of those around him staring. He turned on them and snarled.

"Qu'êtes-vous regardant?" _What are you looking at?_

People reacted by quickly averted their eyes and pretended they no longer saw him. Satisfied, Eames then took his leave of the establishment; he need to think, and it would have to be done elsewhere without anything to distract him.

Meanwhile, Arthur had gone several blocks away from the café before he felt the need to stop. He slipped into an alleyway, wiped at his face with his sleeve, and then pulled out his cell phone so that he could text Cobb. He sent one message before pressing his back against the wall and sliding down.

The message to Cobb read: _He didn't understand._

Once seated, he folded his arms over his propped up knees and rested his head on his arms. He was still holding his phone in one hand. The disheartening thought looped in his mind over and over again.

_He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand..._

Arthur was so distracted by this that he didn't hear the footfalls that approached him.

####

Eames only stopped walking just after the café was out of view. He couldn't think with all those people gawking at him. He leaned against a bike rack and took out his phone, staring at it and thinking. Being overly analytical wasn't something the forger did on a regular basis, however, he knew it was something that needed to be done in this case.

He started with the thought that bothered him most—when Arthur had told him that he couldn't speak. Eames frowned. Suppose that Arthur couldn't, Eames mused, indeed speak in reality. He wondered about when they were in dreamspace, how the point man had come up with the voice he used then. As a forger, Eames knew something like that took not only a lot of concentration, but a considerable amount of imagination as well, something he didn't think Arthur really utilized. After all, that would have been somewhat uncharacteristic of the point man, whom Eames had only seen as nothing but formulaic in his approach to just about everything, real or imagined.

The forger sighed. This was all a lot to process. He lifted his phone, unlocked the screen, and scrolled through his contacts to find his entry for Cobb. When he found it, he clicked the call option and lifted the phone to his ear. Cobb answered after the second ring.

"_Eames, you are a __**complete **__moron."_

"Well, hello to you too, Cobb," Eames said dryly. "Judging from your tone, I assume Arthur has already spoken with you?"

"_Obviously," _said Cobb. _"Eames, are you really this dense or are you just being cruel?"_

"If you mean have I intentionally tried to hurt Arthur, no," Eames said with irritation. "I have only ever wanted for his happiness. I'm just trying to understand."

"_Well how much clearer do you need things to be?" _Cobb asked. _"Quite frankly, Eames, it's amazing to me that you're having so much difficulty grasping the truth."_

"Well forgive me if I find this rather hard to believe," said Eames; he resumed movement while talking to the extractor.

"_Think about it, Eames," _said Cobb. _"Think about it really hard. Have you ever heard him talk outside of the dreaming world? See if you can point out one time Arthur's said something to you in reality, anything. I can bet you hands down that you can't."_

Eames frowned as he considered Cobb's words. He thought back on every single moment he had ever heard Arthur speak, and realized that Cobb was right, those conversations had only ever happened in dreamspace. In fact, the forger realized, that would explain some of the point man's behaviors that Eames had found to be odd, like how Arthur had always made sure to leave earlier than him after a training session, or how he seemed oddly anti-social in reality when he didn't appear to have any problems conversing with Eames while they were dreaming. The forger's eyes widened as he felt all the fragmented pieces come together to form the bigger picture. He suddenly felt guilty for every time he had asked the other man to speak while they were awake.

"Well, _fuck_," Eames said, mostly to himself, but Cobb had heard it. "This makes me look like one hell of an insensitive prick now, doesn't it?"

"_That would be the understatement of the century," _said Cobb. _"Seeing as how it took you this long to figure __**this **__out, you probably haven't realized the __**other **__thing. In fact? I'm confident I can bet my life that you haven't noticed it."_

Eames just barely managed to stifle a groan. "Cobb, what are you talking about? What else have I missed?"

"_Geezus, I feel like a damn woman for saying this," _grumbled Cobb. _"Have you not seen the way Arthur regards you, Eames? I assure you, it's not out of idolization. Arthur is not the type to get starstruck."_

Eames sighed. "Come again?"

"_I'm going to tell you, because it took Arthur a lot of courage and a long time to get himself to tell you about his inability to speak, and honestly I have no idea how long he'll hold out this other bit of information from you," _said Cobb.

"All right," said Eames. "Go on, then."

"_He cares about you, Eames," _said Cobb with a small sigh. _"He cares about you in the way I cared for Mal, a way in which I know I will never feel with another woman again."_

Eames stopped in his tracks then. He blinked several times stupidly, turning over the words Cobb had just spoken in his head.

"_And if Mal was right about you—which I know she was—Mal's instincts were always exactly on target," _Cobb said, and Eames could hear the tenderness in the man's voice when he spoke about his wife. _"Then I know you feel the same way about Arthur too, whether you realize it or not."_

"I..." Eames started to say, but was suddenly distracted by the sounds of commotion happening just a short distance away from him.

"_Eames?"_

"Listen, Cobb," Eames said. "I've got to go, there's something I need to attend to right now."

"_All right, fine," _said Cobb. _"But listen, think about what I said though, all right?"_

"Yeah, I will, Cobb," Eames said. "We'll chat again soon."

The forger cut the call and slipped the phone into his pants pocket. He frowned as he got closer to the source of the yelling he had heard.

####

"_Pretty little thing, ain't ya?"_

Arthur's head snapped up when he heard the unfamiliar, rough voice. When he looked up, he saw three surly looking men staring down at him with expressions that made Arthur's stomach curl.

"Wha'ssa matter? Think you're too good to speak to us?" asked one of the men.

"Look at 'im, he's scared shitless," another snickered.

They were either a group of thugs or a trio of unsavory tourists. Either way, Arthur knew he had to find a way out of the situation quickly. He slowly got up from where he was sitting.

"Come on there," said the third man, reaching a hand out to Arthur. "Give us that. I could use a new phone for myself."

Arthur shook his head and tried his best not to look panicked. Sizing up the men, he knew he wouldn't have a chance against them in hand-to-hand combat, so he needed to find a way to slip past them.

"In fact, got any change on ya? You look a little too well put together to be homeless. I'm sure you could spare us a few Euros so we can eat tonight, can't ya? I'm starving, how about you boys?"

"Yeh, my pockets are feeling a little light. Come on there, boy, let's have it."

Arthur lunged when he thought he had found an opening, but it turned out he had sorely miscalculated. One of the men roughly grabbed him by the arm.

"Hey, hey now. Just where do you think you're go—"

The man was silence when Arthur turned around and punched the man square in the nose with a loud, satisfying crack. Of course, Arthur knew even before the hit connected that he had made a terrible mistake; he was still outnumbered three to one and was at a sore physical disadvantage.

The man, whose nose he may have possibly broken, howled and twisted Arthur's arm painfully before shoving him to the ground.

"Motherfucker!" the man shouted.

The other two men were on him before Arthur could gather his bearings and try to scramble away. Two pairs of rough hands hauled him to standing position and suddenly he was receiving a series of quick blows to the gut; one man was throwing the punches while the other man held him up mercilessly in the air, crossing his arms painfully like a pretzel, the pain searing in his shoulders. Tears flooded down the point man's face, and if he could have screamed, he would have. Instead, he was only able to open his mouth in pain, and only if one listened closely would they have heard the raspy flow of air that passed from his lips.

"Well look at this one, eh, boys?" the man who was punching Arthur said. "Either he's a real man or we got ourselves an unfortunate one."

"Bet you that's it, he's just an unlucky twit," Arthur heard the man holding him growl behind his ear.

Arthur's vision blurred when one of the punches connected with his ribs. He hardly registered being thrown down or the foot that kicked him hard in the head. There was a barrage of kicks that followed after, and then suddenly everything stopped. Arthur blinked and tried to clear his vision. He attempted to lift himself with his arms, but could only pick the upper part of his body up part way. Involuntarily he heaved up a small amount of blood before lowering himself back down, resting his face on his arm. There was ringing in his ears, and through half-lidded eyes Arthur could only see and hear vague bits and pieces of what was going on around him.

"_Oi, you lot think yourselves mighty tough, kicking this man about?"_

"_Who the hell are you? Mind your own business, if you know what's good for ya."_

"_Well, I just so happen to be acquainted with that young man, so I do very well think it __**is **__my business, you wankers."_

"_What you call us?"_

"_There a problem? Your ears not working?"_

"_Why this son of a—!"_

The last two things Arthur registered was the feeling strong arms wrap around him, lifting him up, and the concerned look on a face that looked very much like it belonged to Eames, but Arthur couldn't be sure. He blacked out completely after that.

####

When Arthur woke up, it took his eyes several minutes to adjust to the burst of light. He found himself too sore to move much more than his head, so he turned it to the left and right slowly to see if he could get an idea of where he was. He was able to deduct quickly that he had not somehow miraculously made it back to his own apartment, which meant that he was elsewhere, most likely at someone else's place.

He knew he shouldn't have been, but he felt a little shock upon sensing movement at the foot of the bed he was in. His heart swelled with conflicting emotions when he saw the forger's face come into view. Part of him was glad to see the other man, who looked a little banged up himself, but there was still the half that wasn't ready to face the forger again, at least not this soon.

Arthur flinched involuntarily when Eames reached out to touch his face, but he soon relaxed. The forger's caress was gentle. His breath hitched when the forger brought down his face closer, eyebrows furrowed together as he looked over Arthur's face.

"They did quite a number on you, didn't they, love?" Eames said softly. "I took care of 'em though, right and proper, I did. Set them straight."

Arthur responded by closing his eyes and leaning into the other man's touch. _Thank you,_ he was trying to convey. Eames chuckled and brushed over Arthur's features gently with his fingertips. The point man hoped desperately that he wasn't blushing. He felt the inevitable warmth in his cheeks though, when he felt the man lean forward and speak softly into his ear.

"You rest up now, yes? I had one of Saito's medics come in to look you over and patch you up. Lots of bruising, but at least nothing is broken."

Arthur opened his eyes then and turned his head slightly so that he could catch the forger's gaze. His heart warmed at the affectionate expression the British man held. Their faces were hovering dangerously close to one another, and there was a small part of Arthur that really wanted Eames to come all the way forward and eliminate the distance. The point man mentally cursed his limbs for being too sore to help him close the gap himself. If the forger caught on to his frustration, he was choosing not to acknowledge it, for whatever reason. Instead, he lightly brushed a few strands of hair away from Arthur's forehead before taking a few steps back and tucking the covers a little more tightly around the point man.

"I'm off to make us something to eat," Eames said. "I'll be back to check in on you later."

Frustrated, Arthur shimmied down the bed a little, an action which brought the blanket up to cover part of his face. The point man's eyes narrowed slightly and he let out a small pressured sigh, trilling his lips. Eames blinked, confused at first, and then he began to chuckle when he realized the brunette was pouting.

"We have a lot to talk about, I know, darling," Eames said, smiling. "When you've fully healed though, yes?"

Arthur responded by rolling his eyes and shifting his gaze elsewhere, as if he were saying "_fine." _Eames chortled as he headed in the direction of the kitchen.

"Don't worry, love, it'll happen," Eames said. "I have quite a bit I'd like to say to you too, you know."

The point man arched an eyebrow in question and turned his head back in the forger's direction, but Eames had already completely gone. Arthur puffed out another sigh, which caused the blanket covering his lips to rise and fall. He then closed his eyes and decided to concentrate on getting better faster. After all, the quicker he did, the sooner he and Eames would be able to talk—and there was much Arthur hoped they'd discuss.


	15. The Promise Made

**Author's Note:** So the fic was technically supposed to end here. At the last minute though, I thought I'd just throw in one more chapter, just cause. Feel free to sound off any objections though, if you all would rather this be how it ends.

To **tella** - LOL. Glad you liked last chapter, that's thanks to AiP. And yes, Eames is (was?) super dense, but we've resolved that now, hopefully to your satisfaction.

To **Andorian Ice Princess-AiP **- You have been one of the main people pushing this story forward, so thank you. Happy to hear you liked last chapter, because I wasn't so sure about it when I wrote and posted it, haha.

To **Billie Jane** - I'm glad last chapter lifted your spirits some. Hope you enjoy this one as well. You have also been someone who has consistently supported this project (as well as super long and lovely PM conversations), so I would like to express my appreciation for that as well.

To **BreakOnThrough** - Your comment made me feel better about the last chapter, which I actually wasn't so sure about, haha. Since I hadn't initially planned it ahead of time, I was worried it might not have been written too well or may have come out too rushed.

Last note: I will be abandoning this penname for a different one (of which I already have a couple stories up), so if you'd like to stay in touch, feel free to PM me and I'll give you that name, or if like **CovenantGirlLoki **you would like to make a game of it and see if you can find me again in a different fandom, please feel free to let me know in your review or in a PM and I promise that if you do find me, I will let you know.

I know I have a RocknRolla story on here to wrap up, but I'm debating just deleting it and start it over completely fresh on the new name since I didn't get very far with it, and I kind of don't like how I wrote it the first time the more I look back at it. I don't know, we'll see.

Anyway, onto the next chapter!

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><p><strong>XV<strong>

In the days that followed, Arthur got to see a caring side of Eames that he'd only seen glimpses of before. It was nice at first, the way Eames cared for him—the forger would prepare his meals and make sure that he was allowing his body time to rest and heal. After several days though, when the point man began to feel more limber and healthy, he started to feel restless. Eames had promised him a conversation, and so far the man had made no moves to make good on his word. It unsettled Arthur, because it was making him wonder if the forger might have changed his mind about having a mutual conversation.

A couple more days passed by with no real change in their routine, and as a result, Arthur began to brood. Of course, Eames being the dense sort he was, didn't catch onto the stormy raincloud over the point man's head until one day, when Arthur started giving him the cold shoulder.

"Here, love, your favorite," said Eames, placing a tray of food on a side table. "Eggs and toast!"

Arthur, who was now able to stand well on his own, snorted. He had his back turned to Eames and arms folded across his chest while staring out the window, or at least pretending to be, anyway.

_How do you __**know**__ it's my favorite? _Arthur thought to himself childishly as he pouted. Irrelevant to him, at that moment, was the fact that Eames was right in his assumption. _Have you even asked me? No, you haven't, because we haven't __**talked**__ like you said we would._

The forger, of course, unaware of the brunette's little inner dialogue, frowned slightly when he noticed the point man seemed to be ignoring him. Eames walked up behind Arthur and put a hand lightly on the brunette's shoulder.

"Come now, what's this about, Arthur?" asked Eames. "I know you can hear me darling—you might not be able to say the words, but I know your ears are working just fine."

When Arthur stubbornly shrugged the forger's hand off his shoulder, Eames chuckled. This earned him a rather pointed glare from the other man, to which the British man responded with a boyish grin. If the point man could have in that moment, he most certainly would have asked Eames _just what was __**so **__funny_?

"Oh, I see, now," Eames said with a smile.

He made the unnecessary gesture of brushing his fingertips across the point man's forehead before continuing. "I was so focused on your getting better that it completely slipped by me that you _have_."

Arthur's irritated expression gradually transformed into one of confusion as Eames went from brushing his forehead to the forger sliding his fingers down the point man's cheek, then arm, and stopping at the wrist. Arthur's jaw tensed and his face grew hot when Eames coaxed open his fisted hand in order to take hold of it. The point man flexed his jaw once and then looked up at the forger with a raised eyebrow, failing to suppress the shade of pink that dusted his face. Eames smiled.

"Well, don't look so confused, darling," he said. "I did say that we'd talk, didn't I?"

Arthur nodded, but he looked confused. That continued to be the case until Eames had him sit down on the couch in the forger's living room, and watched Eames go to a storage closet and pull out a PASIV. Now that he knew what Eames was up to, the point man rolled up his sleeve and was ready for the needle that the forger slid into his arm. Eames then did the same for himself before pressing the button that would send them both under and off to the dream world.

When Arthur opened his eyes, he found himself still in the forger's living room, so at first he wondered if for some odd reason the PASIV hadn't done its job. He was almost sure the PASIV had indeed failed when he looked down at his arm and saw that he was still connected, and immediately he began to run through all the scenarios of what could have possibly gone wrong. The racing thoughts halted when familiar hands clasped over his own, and Arthur looked up to see the smiling face of the British forger.

"Try speaking, love," Eames coaxed.

Arthur frowned. "Eames, what are you—"

The point man froze when he realized he could speak, and his jaw clenched. "Eames, this isn't funny."

Now it was the forger's turn to frown. "Darling, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean. I just thought that this would be the best way. Here, no one is at a disadvantage to express themselves, and—"

"That may be true, Eames," Arthur said, shaking his. "But why construct the same exact place from reality?"

"Well, I thought you'd be more comfortable—"

"And the sentiment is appreciated," Arthur said, eyes soft. "But terribly misguided. _Eames_. Don't you remember what you've been told about totems?"

The point man gestured to the dream world around them. "This? This is dangerous, Eames. You know my secret. Combining that with exact details from the real world? That's a Molotov cocktail for disaster."

Eames winced. "Sorry, love, I just—"

Arthur sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I know, I know...you meant well. It's just...you know, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the least bit unnerving."

"Well, I apologize, just the same," said Eames. "Now, close your eyes, darling, and let's start this over."

The point man shut his eyes as the forger placed a gentle hand over them. When he opened them again, they were sitting in two white chairs on either side of a round white table, in the middle of some open field. Arthur looked to his left and right at the endless expanse of green grass, and he looked back at Eames with a raised eyebrow. The forger grinned.

"What, not unrealistic enough for you?"

The point man let out a soft snort and shook his head. "You're impossible, Eames."

"The best and only way to dream, darling," Eames said with a wink.

Arthur half-smiled. Soon after, a momentary awkward silence fell between the two men. For a few seconds they seemed locked in an odd sort of staring contest. Arthur wouldn't meet the forger's eyes at first, pretending to intently study his hands. Eames knocked on the table and gave the point man a small smile when Arthur's eyes finally met his. The forger was the first to speak, clearing his throat before doing so.

"I know we have quite a bit to discuss," said Eames. "Question is, would you like to start or shall I?"

The point man gave him a small shrug. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I think the final destination is the same, regardless of which path we choose to take in order to get there."

Eames chuckled. "How poetic of you, darling."

"Disappointed?"

"Hardly," Eames said, shaking his head, a small smile on his face. "To expect anything less from you would be admitting you're not such a stick in the mud after all, and _that_ would be a lie."

Arthur laughed lightly. "Isn't that in your job description?"

"Hey, I take offense to that, you know," said Eames. "I admit, I do spout the occasional fib, but it's only when necessary. For the most part, I deal in illusion and gimmicks."

"A magician."

"Hah! I prefer the term _trickster_."

"_Semantics_."

"Perhaps," Eames said, rubbing at his nose with his index finger. "Truly though, Arthur. How long are we going to do this dance? Not that I mind, of course, dancing with you."

"Very funny, Eames," Arthur said as he leaned slightly back in his seat. "Fine. I'll ask first. You said something a few days ago...I was wondering what you meant by it, that you had a lot to say to me too?"

"Ah yes," Eames said, smiling. "Impeccable memory."

"Well?"

"It really all depends on what you would like to hear first."

Arthur's lips quirked. "What are my options?"

"Well, first of all, I do owe you an apology for my poor reaction to the truth of your condition."

The point man shrugged and cocked his head slightly to one side. "I suppose I should have expected something like that, in hindsight, and made sure to be prepared for it. You rescued me from a bit of a predicament though, so I think we can call it even."

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that was terribly long-winded, darling," Eames said, scratching at the back of his neck with one of his pointer fingers. "Have I been forgiven?"

Arthur shook his head and chuckled. "Basically."

"Oh good," Eames said with a smile. "Next one then, yeah? There's also the bit where I need to tell you that I am _perfectly fine _with the news. I just needed a little time to absorb the information."

"Got it."

"And of course," Eames continued. "There's the matter of confessing my undying love for you, which is _completely_ unaffected by whatever you do or don't possess in terms of attributes and assets."

Arthur could feel his cheeks grow warm. "Eames, what—"

"Furthermore," said Eames, cutting the point man off smoothly. "I swear to you that I will make every effort to not make this our regular method of conversation."

"I..." Arthur frowned slightly, confused and at a loss for words. "I don't think I'm sure what you mean."

"What I _mean_," Eames said, getting up from his chair and moving to the point man's side. "Is that I will make every effort to _learn_."

Eames surprised Arthur by supplementing his last statement with hand motions. The gesture was so subtle—and there was a hesitation similar to a child carefully constructing a verbal sentence for the first time—but Arthur recognized what he was seeing almost immediately. The point man swallowed once and his eyes became a little glassy.

"Eames, you..."

"I want you to feel perfectly comfortable expressing yourself," Eames said. "I want to understand you without having to rely on dreams to communicate."

Eames continued. "The short of it all is, I would like to be in for the full length of it. Essentially, I'm proposing to you, love."

"While standing?" Arthur asked, while raising one of his eyebrows in a mocking manner and an amused smile forming on his face.

"Ah, forgive me, darling," Eames said, getting down on one knee and holding out his arms. "How's that?"

The point man smirked. "An improvement."

"Impossible to please as always," Eames said, chuckling. "I expect nothing less; however, I do expect an answer, darling."

"All right, I'll give you one," Arthur said before pulling the other man in by the collar and pressing their lips together.

They hadn't kept track of time on the PASIV, so neither were really prepared when the dream seemed to abruptly end. When they woke up, it took them both a minute to adjust to their surroundings. Their eyes met as they disconnected themselves from the device, and they exchanged small smiles.

Eames spoke softly, breaking the silence. "I'd very much like to continue where we left off, darling, if that's all right with you."

The point man leaned back in his place on the couch. With a somewhat lazy smile, Arthur lifted his chin and motioned Eames to "come hither."

_Get over here then_, Arthur seemed to say.

So Eames did.


	16. A Quiet Evening in London

**Author's Note: **So I had to do it; this is a pure fluff chapter—I seriously just couldn't resist. Hopefully you all enjoy it!

To **BreakOnThrough **- If you enjoyed last chapter, I think you might like this one as well. Thanks for all your support!

To **Andorian Ice Princess-AiP **- I'm not sure if there's anything in this chapter that would do anything for you here, but I did include something that I hope you might find a little to your liking.

To **Booth Seeley Booth **- Have you caught up yet? I hope so. The end has arrived!

To **CovenantGirlLoki **- HAHAHA. Well, fortunately or unfortunately, this is the final chapter of this story. Looking forward to seeing you finding me again soon. ;p

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><p><strong>XVI<strong>

Arthur anxiously looked at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently while waiting for the train he was currently riding to reach the stop where he would be getting off. He wasn't exactly the clingy sort, but he did find it worrisome that he hadn't heard from Eames at all that day, which was most atypical of the forger. Normally, the British man would have sent him at least several witty texts by noon. The fact that the man _hadn't_, meant to Arthur that one of three things had happened. The first possibility—Eames was sleeping in. A plausible explanation, except that it was now almost six in the evening and Arthur knew as much as the forger liked his sleep, it was highly unlikely he had wasted away the entire day doing nothing else. That left, in the point man's mind, only two other options. Either Eames had just been unusually busy that particular day and hadn't had the mind to send Arthur a message, _or _the forger had run into some kind of trouble. The latter scenario sounded far more likely, but Arthur hoped that wasn't the case.

He rushed off the train as soon as it reached the station he had been waiting for and hailed for a cab as soon as he reached the streets. He was at their shared contemporary-styled, detached home within minutes. They had a place in France as well, but Arthur had insisted on having a residence in London as well, due to the forger's British roots. Eames had found it terribly amusing how much Arthur cared when he didn't; however, he had appreciated the man's thoughtfulness all the same. As a result, the two of them spent most of their holidays in East Sheen.

The point man felt a little bit of relief upon reaching their door and finding that it was still locked. At first glance there didn't seem to be any signs of forced entry; however, Arthur being who he was, he remained cautious. He unconsciously ran his hand underneath his jacket over his prized Glock which was in its holster before stepping inside.

When Arthur flicked on the light, he was surprised to find that the area seemed untouched—pristine, even—showing no signs of struggle. Immediately Arthur thought of two plausible scenarios. If Eames had been taken, then his captors apparently were neat freaks. The other possibility Arthur almost didn't want to entertain—Eames cleaning up before packing up his bags and walking out of the point man's life forever. Neither scenario was ideal, but Arthur couldn't think of any other reasonable explanations; after all, in all the years he'd known the man and in the year they'd been together as an official couple, the forger had shown himself to be perfectly fine living in a state of clutter.

Eames leaving him may have been the lesser of two evils, but Arthur still found his mind was reeling. It was a disturbing thought, and it made Arthur wonder if perhaps he was more attached to the man than he had realized. The point man sat down on the couch in the living room, allowed his body to sink into it, and loosened his tie while he stared up at the ceiling.

A pair of hands covered his eyes before Arthur could get lost too deeply in his thoughts, and what occurred next was purely an instinctual reaction. In an instant, Arthur grabbed the person's wrists, and flipped them over himself and the couch, slamming their body on—and as a result, completely shattering—the glass table that had been in front of the couch. He then quickly pulled out and trained his Glock on the individual groaning in the debris; however, he immediately lowered his weapon when he realized the person he had just assaulted was his lover, Eames. The point man leaned down to the forger's level and began to sign frantically, his expression furious.

_Eames! What is wrong with you? I could have killed you!_

Arthur became further irritated when the British man began to chuckle. "Well, hello to you too, darling."

_Eames!_

"Bloody hell!" the forger said, getting up slowly and brushing off small glass shards off his clothing. "Well, we're going to have to replace this now, aren't we?"

He laughed some more when Arthur began to check him over. The brunette continued to sign with agitation.

_Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?_

"No, no, I'm quite all right, love. Not a single nick."

Arthur let out a relieved sigh. _Geezus, Eames. What were you thinking?_

Eames chuckled some more and affectionately caressed Arthur's cheek. "I only meant to surprise you."

_Well, consider me surprised._

"Don't worry, it won't happen again," Eames said, shaking his head. "I've made mental note never to play 'guess who' with someone so uptight. I forgot how tense you can be, darling."

Arthur pouted a little. _Really though, Eames. You had me worried—I hadn't heard from you all day. I thought something happened._

The forger's expression softened. He pulled Arthur in for a warm embrace.

"That so?" he asked.

He caressed the back of the point man's head. Eames smiled when Arthur buried his face in the forger's chest like a spoiled child. Eames took small pride knowing that over the last year, he had slowly whittled down the brunette's tough exterior, perhaps even without the other man realizing it. He pressed a kiss on top of the point man's head and pulled the other man back.

"Come on," he said to Arthur, who looked at him questioningly. "I've got something to show you."

Eames took Arthur by the hand and led him to their dining room. For the first time, Arthur noticed the wine glasses and cake with unlit candles sitting on the table that they used for meals, and the point man couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't noticed all this before.

Arthur frowned and looked over at the forger. _Eames—what...?_

"Oh come now, Arthur, _surely _you haven't forgotten what today is?" Eames said with a smile.

The forger laughed upon seeing the rapid changes in the point man's expression as he tried to quickly put things together in his mind. Eames walked over to the other side of the table so that he was facing Arthur. He took out a lighter and quickly lit all the candles on the cake, then looked up at Arthur with a smile. The point man's cheeks flushed red; he finally realized what it was he had forgotten. Eames outstretched his arms and grinned. Then he spoke before Arthur could, supplementing his words with his hands.

"_Happy anniversary, darling. I love you."_

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><p><strong>AN: **We finally made it to the end of this story! Honestly, there was one point where I never thought this would happen. Kind of sorry to see it go, but I think this one wrapped up quite nicely. Thanks to all those who added this story to their favorites, wrote me lovely PMs that helped keep me going, and those who provided consistent feedback_—_you all know who you are. Without readers such as yourselves, this project would have been impossible to complete. So once again, thank you all so much, and hope to see you all again someday! Much love!


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